Wind moans in the eaves,
a dead shrew on wet bricks.
Paths soaked with sodden leaves.

Autumn is up to its old tricks.

Cold gusts and shafts of sudden sun,
birds and clouds migrate the sky,
Summer’s visitors leaving one by one.

Better to move on than stay and die?

Old aches and pains bring forth
their winter crops.
Old lungs choke to keep cold damp out.

This year’s runner beans reveal
bare and battered tops.

Does this year’s robin wonder,
what’s it all about?


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