An Autumn Tapestry

When you come to stay, you'll stay In a box, much like any other. With its own rich vein of concrete running between two green rivers of grass; supporting islands of tainted leaves too corrupt to remain at home for another season. A bird feeder stands lonely sentinel in a changing Eden, the only nod to nature's needy. Where a magpie, whose beak shares the accuracy of the boxer punching a moving bag, eats the once yearly offering of seed from its moving target. And two black - ringed turtle doves, the epitome of Athrodite's children, throw a lovers spat over the single bird feeder. Whilst mellow music drifts upon the same wavelengths as the shrilling calls of the birds. One, more harmonious than the other. A dog, lying in the heated comfort of the box, tries to urge a bark, but settles for a growl, at an autumn intruder. It's head following the ostentatious jig of a robin, like a type writer Jarring between upper and lower case. This fleeting balsam that comes once every year, tasting of deep velvet shiraz, willingly shares its richness with those that bring a glass. No rights witheld. That's what you'll see when you come to stay. If you look.