THE KITCHEN GARDEN

 

Umbrella-shaped flower heads

Borne upon their stems

With fragrant open umbel

Sway in the gentle breeze

Of the kitchen garden

Stirring parsley, dill, and fennel

CHANTICLEER COCK

 

In the farmyard

Where the chickens scratch

A Chanticleer cock keeps an eye

On his clucking batch

 

But if some unfortunate

Mishap should befall

Leaving the farmyard

With no cock at all

 

Then nature will take a hand

To correct the mishap

Turning one of the scratchy hens

Into a chap

THE SEASONS COME AND GO - AUTUMN

 

The seasons come and go

Almost monotonous I know

One after another, as planned

Like the sweep of a clock hand

Each season reminding us all

That from winter to the fall

Is yet another year slipped by

A step closer to when we die

A depressing thought I know

But let the seasons come and go

For I think it would be a crime

If there was to be no autumn time

THE SUFFOLK PUNCH

 

The Suffolk Punch

Heavy draught horse

Beautiful Chestnut beast

Solid and dependable

With energetic gait

Known as “good doers”

The Suffolk Punch

Work horse of the land

AUTUMN TREASURE

 

All was calm, in the morning

After the autumn storm

Had stripped bare the trees

And swept the fallen harvest

To havens sheltered from the gale

In the calm clear night

The frost crisped the land

Holding all in suspended animation

Everything where it fell

As the sun strengthened

To melt away the frost

Leaves spill from the bottom of hedgerows

Like golden coins from treasure chests

In a vast well filled vault

Soon enough this fallen bounty

Would again be scattered

Across the landscape

On the next autumnal weather front

AUTUMN REFLECTIONS

 

I stood on the wet sand

On that cold autumn morning

In the autumn of my years

With the breeze off the sea

Chilling my old bones

And gazed out across the bay

To the distant purple hills

Their edges blurred and softened

By the early morning mist

Their indistinct silhouette

Reflected on the moving water

The tidal water pulling at the reflection

As it moved inexorably to the open sea

And seemingly carrying with it

All of my unfulfilled hopes and dreams

With a shiver I turned from the scene

And made my way along the beach

My eyes were drawn to the hillside

Where the sparsely covered trees stand

With the last of the leaves falling

Each fluttering to the ground

Each leaf’s fall symbolic

Like the dates of a calendar

Being peeled off one by one

Ticking off the days of my life

As I head towards my winter

I ALWAYS LOVED THE TIME OF YEAR

 

I always loved the time of year

Long before that perfect day

It was a perfect morning

The best of autumn

The sky the clearest blue

The air crisp and clean

The last remnants of mist

Burnt away by the rising watery sun

And there she stood

As if to improve on nature itself

A vision of perfection

Standing at the edge of the woods

From beneath her woolen hat

Flaming red hair fell

Then danced upon her shoulders

And caught on her scarf

Breath plumed from her smiling mouth

As she spoke to her dog

Then she began to walk

The hem of her long coat swung

With the rhythm of her hips

As she strode into the woods

The spaniel chasing a stick she had thrown

Her boots crunching leaves underfoot

Still crisp with frost

Where the sun hadn’t reached

“Come on Jimbo” I said

Letting the dog out of the car

And we followed her into the wood

I walked amidst the skeletal trees

Where Squirrels ran here and there

Still busily preparing for winter

I kicked through the carpet of leaves

Feeling like a schoolboy again

And birds settled in my wake

Feeding on insects in the disturbance

In a clearing I saw her again

Her red hair like fire

Illuminated in the sunlight

The dogs soon introduced each other

And we did also

Two dog lovers talking in a wood

Two people who would become lovers

Who both loved the time of year