As mist does roll across the field <br />And drapes the lowly chestnut tree <br />With silken gown while winter's chill <br />Now grips the frozen air, <br />Beneath the fallen amber leaves <br />Lay scattered where the wind did toss <br />And rest upon the dampened grass <br />For now the branches bare. <br /> <br />But stained with coat of mossy green <br />And lichen clinging to its trunk <br />So broad and yet so frail to see <br />Bereft of life does stand, <br />No more the blackbird finds a perch <br />Or sings within its leafy boughs <br />Forlornly now it waits for spring <br />When colour fills the land. <br /> <br />Now as the evening does descend <br />Upon the lowly chestnut tree <br />A silhouette against the sky <br />As nature now does sleep, <br />A breathless hush as sorrow mourns <br />The passing of the summer gone <br />In stillness as the day goes by <br />While clouds now gently weep.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-mist-does-roll-across-the-field/
