A Little Seasoning

The ferns have started to rust

in the autumn winds

the Oak leaves

a little jaundiced now

 

The hedgerows have had

their short back and sides

ready for winter

the Yew berries lie juicy on the floor

 

The faint hint of bonfires

hangs in the air

as the farmers sit and  smoke

their stubble

 

The first baize of winter Kale

dresses the snooker tables

as the acorns crunch

like cornflakes underfoot

 

Scarlet pin pricks

pierce the Holly bushes

as the Willow leaves

get heavier

 

The pylons hum a haunting tune

as the breeze caresses them

and the pheasants strut about

thinking they are peacocks

 

The industrious squirrels

are busy, busy, busy

filling larders and pantries

busy, busy, busy

 

The Rosehips fade a little

and without moisturiser

or a good night cream

a few wrinkles and laughter lines

 

The Apples on the path

make Cider and Calvados

on their carpets

to sell at market in spring

 

The Kestrel hovers

and watches that little bit

more closely than before

eyes sharper than ever

 

Soon now Autumn will reach

inside her workshop

to find her palette

and create her Masterpiece

 

Already the signs are there,

I can see her rummaging

for her smock and glasses,

they will sit tight on her nose.

 

Already the signs are there.