Autumn 1963

By Len Morgan

Autumn creeps in with a cold stiff breeze

While sunlight dapples russet & ochre leaves

A carpet of copper for my feet to touch

A flush-faced wanderer who loves Autumn so much

 

Salmon heading for the sea like savage hoards

Suicidal leaping falls and slipping over fords

Now heading for the sea, that vast watery expanse

they’ll be back again in spring if given the chance

 

Birds, a heavenly choir, emitting pleasant discords

Flying ever onward moving towards

The South and the tropics, mustn’t leave it too late

For chance is they will die, if they don’t migrate

 

Oh Autumn, your skies most variable of all

Clouds dashing and dancing in answer to your call

Devious in their flight like a stag at bay

till sunset stains the blood corps of the day

Copyright Len Morgan