A Poem for Autumn by Don Filliston

Our Honorary President, Don Fillison, sent us a poem for Autumn a few days ago.  We have been holding off posting it, not wishing the Summer away, but given the weather today we think the time has come to admit that the season is changing.  But it is not all bad news.  Autumn is a wonderful season with its ripe fruits and colourful leaves, and we can still expect some mild sunny days.

Autumn.

Ripe apples hanging high in trees;
Wasps in the windfalls, busy bees.
Sweet chestnuts and hazels too.
Harvest festivals, harvest moon;
Michaelmas will be here quite soon.

Grass glistening in the dew.
Our migrant birds are on the move;
Those shooting pheasants out to prove,
How macho they all are.
Birch and hornbeams turning yellow,
Indian Summer’, mild and mellow.
Blackberries in a jar.

Halloween witches, hear their cackle;
Footsteps in the leaf-fall crackle.
Toadstools and chanterelle.
Leaves and bracken, all splashed with gold;
Red Admirals fly, as nights grow cold.
We must tuck up as well.

Don Filliston.

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