Autumn in Sussex. A Poem

As it’s now Autumn, officially, I thought I’d post a poem about that season. I think I’ve already posted it previously, but I’ve new followers who haven’t seen it before.

So here it is.

The Downs are wreathed in mist, like smoke
From a dying fire.
The leaves are turning red and gold
Like flames upon a pyre.

Spring’s little lambs are grown to sheep
The swallows they have flown.
The blossoms that the summer brought
Their petals all have thrown.

Now autumn’s bounty fills the woods,
The hedgerows are ablaze
With hips and haws in colours bright
The senses to amaze.

The smoke from wood fires fills the air,
The scent of autumn true.
The autumn sun is cooler now
And mornings filled with dew.

The cobwebs shine with dewdrops bright.
The spider in her lair
Thinks nothing of the rainbow hue
That scatters in the air.

And children kick the fallen leaves
As laughingly they run
To gather conkers, shiny brown,
Gleaming in the sun.

We gather blackberries from the hedge
And apples from on high.
Up in the tree they ripen now
To turn into a pie.

But autumn sometimes has a kick
And the rain it lashes down.
The wind, it howls within the eaves
And through the trees doth moan.

3 thoughts on “Autumn in Sussex. A Poem”

    1. Glad you like it. Autumn is a lovely season. We usually have the tail end of summer, with sunshine, but not too hot. And the wonderful fruit and nuts we can pick for free. The trees look lovely, and the hedgerows with the bright fruit of the hawthorn and wild roses. If you know what you’re doing, there are also wild fungi. ( I’m not knowledgeable enough to risk it.)

      Liked by 1 person

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