Autumn Harvest

 Autumn Harvest 

By Christopher Mathews 

Children wade knee deep through waves of golden carpet leaf,

 the crunch and snap of autumn’s dry discarded wreath.

 

Pockets full of conkers they search the forest floor,

ready for the schoolyard battle, with the boy who lives next door.

 

The stream is slow and lazy now,

at peace with the waving waterweed,

shrew and voles seek a place for the long cold winter sleep

 

Morning mist veils the land with a gentle silver glow, the cobwebs shine like jewels, the promise of an early snow.

 

The evening sun, falls swiftly upon the weary weald,

soon at rest, the summer harvest gone, labourers plod home to leave the empty field

 

A breathless breeze calls softly among the withering leaves,

the golden spell of summer’s gone,

announcing winter’s sleep.

 

Old and ragged butterflies search among the blackthorn leaves,

a place to lay their seed of life for the coming spring.

 

The king of trees has lost his robes of lush and verdant green,

and reigns alone without the Elm,

his long dead slender queen.

 

His labour through the spring and summer toil,

produced the treasured acorn, abundant with the richness of the soil.

 

An fruitful crop of life, hides inside the golden leaves, but lost among its branches the gall wasp lays her parasitic seeds

Autumn brings to mind my darker days,

as daylight flees and youthful strength begins to slowly fade

 

Copyright Christopher Mathews