September Telltale Whisper

Autumn, a time for reflections on reflections, and they are rife, linked to pearly grey sky, lake, puddle, mud strewn path or no, while each steep cliff face boldly juts, sheer defiance without concession or a budge, through jagged edge loadstone chipping, as the chilling froth-tipped sea mounts its saline tumult, irrespective of an iron cast continuing rebuttal. One can pass the baton to u turn so turbulent, within our mental recess at end of summer phase. September signpost deigns to whisper, of a scenic telltale hint and tint, this somber colour gloss an imposition on July, sunburst relish, such a sullen flashback, amid the garden suite indigo plot, beyond a purposeful utopian expanse, which every avid green-fingered artisan must doff, their pale straw rimmed hat to, that transit between seasons, annual curtain drop, awash with predetermined wish fulfilment, glow upon each glitter that sparks our child, eternal down the ages, somehow yet an underlying dread might spoil or pamper, in such icicle entanglement so wicked in its frozen mosaic, chase indelible precursor now more than ever so inevitable.