Autumn or Fall – the world turns a delicious hue of red and gold, the first hint of winter begins to bite with chill winds and the first early morning frosts. I love autumn. It is always been a great time to reflect and write. Over the next few posts, I wanted to publish a selection of autumn writings – 

Walk In The Park

(not Barefoot)

Walk through the park. Kicking up leaves, Picking up shiny conkers that I thrust them deep into my pocket like precious treasure. I’m walking on the grass The park keeper scowls at me. I scowl back and skulk off like a naughty boy. And the autumn sun warms my heart. And the wind blows, swirling up the leaves around me. I’m in a golden tornado, I’m in my October country, In symbiotic elation with the season, In this golden moment, the fragile zest of life bites, Clean and clear like the cold edge on the breeze. In this country, I can create worlds, write landscapes, write people, Change the world with words, And the words take form. I turn them round and round in my head. They make poems. They make stories. They sound good. I’ll write them down. I’ll put this autumn elation into words, before life resumes and sweeps them away. But as the wind blows the leaves, So it blows away the words, And they fly to the four corners of my mind, And are forgotten.