“Falling Leaves” by Marque Dobrow

Leave a comment

FALLING LEAVES

When the autumn months are calling,

Leaves from up on high are falling.

Landing softly on the ground

Without a shudder or a sound.

But if I were a bug or bee

And if a leaf should land on me

Would I be hurt, or in a pickle?

Or would that leaf provide a tickle?

Through March and April and into May

Leaves are falling by the day.

Mother Nature’s voice has called,

The trees seem to be going bald.

In my backyard beneath the sky

Leaves of many colours lie.

Maple leaves and sycamores;

Gum leaves too: there’s leaves galore.

While the soil is far from hardened

I rake some leaves onto my garden,

Making many a compost heap,

Where all the worms and snails sleep.

So if you’re rolling up your sleeves

Please admire the falling leaves.

Pick one up from off the clover:

Go on and turn a new leaf over.

“Autumn Tapestry” by Toni Newell

Leave a comment

Autumn Tapestry

 

Colours infiltrate me,

Infuse into my mind,

Riding on an autumn leaf,

Leaving earth behind.

I see a tapestry of leaves,

Scattered far below,

Red and ochre intertwined,

Putting on a show.

Uplifted by the current,

I drift into the sky,

On a wave of breeze,

Floating way up high.

Suddenly I’m falling,

Then up again I go,

No sooner have I risen up,

I’m in a downward throw.

Finally, I land,

Amidst the other leaves,

And I find myself again,

Part of the tapestry.

“A season of riches” by James Aitchison

Leave a comment
A season of riches 
Gold is growing
in the trees,
and at your feet
in the leaves.
Walk a pathway
dipped in gold,
softest green and
amber bold.
Soon we will feel
winter’s chills,
but autumn first
richly thrills.
                  James Aitchison

“Through the Park” by Katherine Gallagher

Leave a comment

With every step among the leaves,

crackling, golden, orange, brown

you hear the music of the  bees,

you feel the rhythm of your feet;

the slip and slide on crackling grass,

and the colours of the burning trees.

 

Keep on walking – it’s a treat

to drink the air and sing your feet

in crackling grass as you pass.

 

©Katherine Gallagher