Autumn
                  Autumn autumn stories
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misty_eagle
misty_eagle Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   5 months ago
After the rain and the black weeknights After the wind and the cold

Autumn

After the rain and black weeknights

After the rain and black weeknights After the wind and the cold

A glimpse of sunlight coaxes us back into a lost world.

A glimpse of sunlight coaxes us back into a lost world. I'd forgotten this.

I'd forgotten this.

There is still the ash tree, once thick with hidden song

There is still the ash tree, once thick with hidden song There is still the pond where tadpoles grew their legs

There is still the ash tree, once thick with hidden song There is still the pond where tadpoles grew their legs And still the grass, now longer, greener, messy with wet leaves.

Pumpkins stare from the compost heap

Pumpkins stare from the compost heap Fruit flies gathered in the corners of their eyes -

And sweet verse won't mask the stench of decay

And sweet verse won't mask the stench of decay Or give back what's been taken away.

We walk.

We walk. Escaping, searching.

We walk. Escaping, searching. Relearning how to live in this new country

We walk. Escaping, searching. Relearning how to live in this new country of wet and grey

First past houses with their rubber bats and plastic bones

First past houses with their rubber bats and plastic bones And glowing porches with muddy boots

First past houses with their rubber bats and plastic bones And glowing porches with muddy boots And pavements strewn with dandelion roots

Then into the fields

Amber-hued and mist-ridden

The oak tree

The oak tree ginger as a fox

The sun muted by peach clouds

Skylarks picking at the chocolate earth

And settling beneath an auburn shroud

And those gabled houses always at a field's edge: who lives in places like these?

And those gabled houses always at a field's edge: who lives in places like these? Warm-windowed, smoke stretching past the trees -

A hinterland between wild and tame

A hinterland between wild and tame Stoic witness to so much change.

Night catches us

Night catches us back on the country road

Night catches us back on the country road so we turn left and take the village-way home

Where the takeaway shops spill their smells

And we hear the first scream and pop of a firework

And touch hands, knowing what we know.

And for a time, we won't complain

And for a time, we won't complain About the black, the cold, the grey, the rain

Until of course we forget again

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