A whisper of leaves ~ Margaret Ingall
The sound of the Autumn is soft as a sigh,
A whisper of leaves as a breeze passes by,
In colours bravura, both brilliant and bold,
She’s clad in red-russet, in pumpkin and gold.
Her perfume’s distinctive, of bonfire and smoke,
sharp as back leaf mould, and mellow as oak.
Her touch is of tree-bark, enduring and rough,
crisp as a corn stalk and conker-shell tough.
Her bounty is rich as the gown that she wears,
a tumble of berries, ripe apples and pears.
She pauses too briefly, then turning her face
abandons the world to the Winter’s embrace.
Have a good weekend!