I look across the autumn fields <br />So brown and bare for cut and turned, <br />By blades of plough that scarred the land <br />Where summer wheat did sway, <br />The crows now climb the clods of earth <br />All strewn with shafts of golden straw, <br />While swiftless skies are silent <br />As September slips away. <br /> <br />The hedges cut where hawthorn grew <br />And blossomed in the early spring, <br />Beside the path where fallen leaves <br />Lie scattered on the floor, <br />Where once the pretty daisies grew <br />With dandelions amongst the grass, <br />Now just the fading clover stays <br />As winter nears once more. <br /> <br />The border trees stand lightly tinged <br />With amber flecks amongst the green, <br />Their faintest shadows rest upon <br />The undulating ground, <br />As evening sunlight slowly falls <br />And cloudless skies begin to glow, <br />I hold the comfort that the spring <br />Shall quickly come around. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Copyright. Andrew Blakemore 2009<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-fields/
