From tiny beginnings to oceans I discovered the world in words

Archive for November, 2014

Autumn Closes ( Autumn Snipping )

Behind the thinning trees

another glorious sunset

takes a late afternoon bow.

The European pine

in her golden dress

makes a final curtsy

before winter.

Elaine Morris (c) November 2014.

Mildness tanka (Autumn Snipping)

The still grey morning

awakens mellow sunshine.

When leaves fall slowly

in silence, her care worn frown

softens gently, and she smiles.

Elaine Morris (c) November 2014.

Harvest (Autumn Snipping)

It’s a grey autumn morning beyong the sitting room window

but there’s a cosiness ┬áin here beside the fire.

No one is here but me and my thoughts

of preparation for winter and the changes it brings.

Seasonal festivities celebrated by fires,

roasting chestnuts gathered in the fall

in homes decorated with holly, ivy and mistletoe

that came to fruition as autumn encroached.

No better place to be after a brisk autumn walk

that quickens the breath that mists before

your rosy chilled cheeks.

Somewhere in the forest fungi lingers in silence

as people walk past, just a few stop and consider

the pereniality of things that rest through the year

and then appear to surprise us once again.

The hirundines have left.

No martins, swifts and swallows now.

Our winter visitors start to arrive from colder places.

Maybe our families will also gather together,

travelling home from faraway.

Will we be ready, having collected the harvest

that nature produced,

in this time of change and preparation.

Elaine Morris (c) November 2014


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