Sun shining, silver sands 

parched of colour across windswept beaches.

Lonely walkers hunched against the bite

while grey waves crash to shore.

Bracken fronds turn gently 

brown as hazelnuts

and crunch with the rustle of autumn.

A time to sit back, observe…and sigh!

Here’s the Harvest Moon 

a wondrous golden glow in the sky.

A raft of dew-drenched spiders’ webs sparkle 

across the sea of ripened barley.

Leaves turn russet, glistening gold

alive with the rustle of foragers

while boughs droop with autumn fruit, 

Earth’s nourished treasure.

Conkers nestled in their spiky beds

promise of festivals, long nights, winter rest.

Lined up pumpkins on the wall 

ready to be gloriously transformed.

Here’s the Northern wind of change.

Wrap up while smoke-tinged cold stings noses —

or shelter warm, lights on, curtains drawn,

to hear the gentle dance of teardrops upon the red rooftops.

Slow-clearing mists creep the fields of stubble, 

and spider’s webs glisten with diamond dew.

The eerie shroud mutes the golden hues and burnished bronzes

as death transitions leaves into beauty on the bending boughs of the trees.

Green turns slowly 

into yellow and brown.

The burnished leaves float silently to the ground

and crunch under feet while sleepy mammals burrow deep.

Hedgehogs snuffle and snuggle in the crisp stack of golden leaves

Earth rich haven from winter’s storm.

Ghosts of summer past chestnut ripe 

on ground no longer bathed in sunlight.

Breath misting, each step releasing

damp bursts from pine dense forest floor.

Crow cawed echo.

Centred by quiet.

Sinking sun casts shadows long

across fields once ripe with golden corn.

Here’s the first frost.

A pause.

With thanks to:

Andy Radka

Christine Gant

Diana

High Mires

Lisa Henson

and 17 anonymous poets

for contributing lines of poetry