Now is the golden browning of the year, <br />early dusky evenings, and the quiet. <br />A time of listless leaves and branches, <br />a settling, and a dignity of dying. <br /> <br />Smells of damp and rolling mist, <br />now haunt the hedges and the willows <br />of the river valley field. <br />The evening bells sound dampened in <br />the thick of Autumn air. <br /> <br />The year is closing down <br />to sleep the winter sleep through frost and chill. <br />Silent snow will follow in its time <br />sealing the land in white and crispy cold, <br />freezing in death what life will need to live <br /> <br />When all is dark in winter, thoughts <br />of bluebells ringing in the dell <br />keep hope alive that spring will peal anew <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Martin Swords <br />June 2002<br /><br />Martin Swords<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumnal-3/
