AUTUMN
By Frances Harris
Signs of autumn, trails of leaves,
Slowly fall from naked trees,
Slips of moss on shiny stones,
That’s what autumn means to me,
I have seen some autumns pass,
Never dull, with long grey grass,
Still blue skies and wispy clouds
Keep me entertained for hours,
In the distance cattle grazing,
Swollen bellies close to calving,
I look out for small white faces,
Hiding in the boundless cover,
Orange yellow, shades of movement,
Ducks and snipes no longer call us,
Winds that cool the gentle landscape,
Mountains changing, shades of purple,
Picnic baskets filled with goodies,
Bread rolls, cakes with lots of
icing,
Even though my childhood’s past,
A fleeting thought, a happy glance..
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