Walking through the churchyard
Was gentle then,
Whispering amongst the leaves,
You In anger blow
The wise know
That your breath
For we reap what we sow.
Will Autumn come as it should
With strong winds to shake the wood?
Thus far I have found
Only a few conkers on the ground.
Most, being small
I let lie where they did fall,
But three with me now
Are sitting, far removed from mighty bough.
I wonder, will they be discovered when I am gone?
What a strange question to ponder on!
I have seen no acorns yet,
The oak’s fruit that stirs regret.
Memories of a time long since past
When I would wonder the forest vast
With my grandfather kind
Seeking acorns to find.
Autumn is here
Yet the time of year
The sun’s rays strong
Have harried the woods too long
and I, like nature am bemused
About the reason
For this confusion in the season.
The wind gusts and a bird in a tree above my head sings. It is a wonderful windswept day in the environs of Crystal Palace. yet in France, in the past week fanatics with hate in their hearts have committed atrocities. None the less the bird still pours out his soul. The poignant singing gladdening and tearing my heart apart simultaneously.