Autumn – 2017

Late September and there are fewer hips and haws than last year;

it is not yet a spectacular colourful scene.

Leaves are just beginning to turn and drift down to the brown earth

that is, all except the horse chestnuts that turned in August and are now


Birds carol a different morning tune – still vigorous but it is the song of

harvest not procreation;

One small red throated finch like bird sang his heart out in full glory and

joy for the world – that is how I heard it.

I wandered on as my dog smelt the tracks of deer and foxes – even I could smell

the fox and see by my faithful hound where his tracks had been.

The light is different now – clearer somehow as nature sweeps all before her in

autumn’s glorious, gorgeous, gathering before the cold of winter sleep sets in.

Wildly the unruly skein of geese fly one way then another across the pale blue sky;

the leader must be a rookie as they go in haphazard zig-zags for food and water;

we all must learn our craft sometime – and this was her turn –

she will not make those mistakes again.

I love their cries as they buffet about – it is the sound of life – so different from my own;

but we all share this world and woe betide us if we think, for one moment, that

we are more important than those geese.


With every good wish for the world.