When I was writing yesterday’s post it reminded me of two poems I wrote in November four years ago. They illustrate how differently one can feel about autumn. Unlike summer which is generally associated with positive things people naturally feel slightly more ambivalent about the season known for death, cold and rain. When I wrote the first poem I was obviously affected by the darker side of autumn:

3 November 2010


autumn is greyP1060247
grey like my mind as early darkness falls outside
grey like the trees that stretch hungry naked limbs 
to the turbulent skies
the vengeful skies that throw themselves 
at the skeletal branches
break all that can be broken
and tear that final scrap of colour from a feeble grasp

colour fades
light falters
hope stumbles and falls

But the next day I must broken free of autumns dark spell since I sat down and wrote this reply to my my earlier poem:

4 November 2010

... but Autumn is also 

P1090419 - Copy (2)playful gusts of wind 
dancing with the leaves
twirling swirling 
in a wild waltz 
through the twilit street 

maples on fire and birches dripping gold 

P1050972the first soft flakes of snow
falling from a colourless sky

a dream

an illusion

a gentle coldness
and a promise of winter in the air