November from my window

Grey leaden skies,

Layers of sodden leaves

Carpeting the gaunt, bare trees

Mark the passing days of Autumn.

Only the copper beech is seen

Still wrapping its modesty

In a majestic robe of russet brown.

Yesterday, the silver birch

Still flaunted its little yellow flags

Warming itself in the sun’s strong rays.

The May tree toasting itself all summer

Had turned a deep mahogany.

The last roses nodded their heads

Relishing the peace before the storm.

Leaves, gently sailing in the breeze

Landed lightly as feathers on the lawn.

The whole earth smiled warmly

At the thought of tasks well done.

Now all that is gone

Winter has come.

                            22 Nov 2007