Just as I believe that autumn's gone, <br />left bare branches dressed in shades of grey, <br />melted the glowing leaves to muddy slime, <br />stealing sunlight, shortening my day – <br /> <br />just as I prepare to go to ground, <br />to tell myself to close my eyes, <br />accept the long dark cell <br />where I must make my home till spring – <br /> <br />I turn a corner on the narrow track and reach <br />the downward slope. <br />And here time’s slowed it seems. <br /> <br />Still, in this one place, <br />slim beech trunks, green velvet covered, <br />scattered with gold and bronze, stand warm <br />against dark thickets in the forest. <br /> <br />And though the sky outside is grey <br />this tunnel, where the trees protect their own, <br />holds autumn’s final breath <br />before December's sterile chill comes down.<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/landscapes-collection-a-change-of-season/
