Stung between garden fences twilight coaxed you outside, to the square of wilding lawn uncut from summer’s end, the coils of wood smoke streaked with petrol rising above an evening glow of light behind closed panes as one by one they too flickered out.
The leaves turning always brings me home, no matter where I am, my mind came back to Shropshire, the woods alight with copper as mist rises on the fields and the log burner is lit for the first time since Spring. I come home. I’m looking forward to autumn already. While summer is lovely, we never really get much of it here in England, instead we make the most of autumn and all its wonderful excuses for knee high boots, fluffy socks and cuddly jumpers. [I may have bought all three in the last week.] Today’s DVerse Poets Pub prompt is to write a quadrille using ‘leaves’ for your inspiration. For me this means taking you to my parents’ farm in Shropshire, where the woods begin to shake off their leaves, the log burner gets started up, the whole house smells of wood smoke, and we pull out the winter duvets ready for the colder seasons. Autumn really is my favourite season.
We, the fallen e. s i r You, autumn hurricane c a t c h me in tumble arms of coppered bronze with fists of pawing, sweeping gold… Turn me inside turn me out turn me all about. I decided to write a bit of a nonsense poem. It’s really difficult to remember how to spell catch when your writing each letter on a different line…
Gather up the leaves, steal the flames from every hearth and burn like Autumn.
You tracked mud footsteps across everything I own. You said “this is spring.” I kept Autumn close, wrote to it with summer words- not that winter knew. Summer surprised us, trust England not to expect sunshine in July.