Terry Trainor | + Follow Poet |
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An Autumn Walk In Autumn Years

One fine, blustering, autumn day an old gentleman walks from his home,
If anyone wondered where he was going he was on his way to a forest,
The old gentleman walked at a leisurely pace stopping now and again,
Just to see what the farmers men were up to and who was the plowman.

As he paused he took pleasure at the sight of fat cattle and poultry,
Duck, geese and turkeys busying themselves beside the big barn doors,
And he could hear the flail or the swipple, knocking out the cut corn,
He carried on walking, smiling and made his way to the brow of a hill.

He stopped at stiles and rustic bridges casting arches over the water,
Breathing in deeply through his nose, sampling the fresh autumnal air,
After looking all around, happy would nod and murmur, "Ay, all is good,"
Having satisfied himself he looked forward and so he walked on again.

It would not be long before he stopped, catching his wheezing breath, resting,
This time by clusters of rich, jetty blackberries hanging from large hedge,
And clusters of nuts, hanging by the wayside through many copses on his way,
in all these natural beauty the old man seemed to have enjoyment of a child.

A handful of blackberries went into his mouth and nuts in his jacket pockets,
With a quiet inspiring and thoughtful cheerful look he carried on his quest,
Bound for a long walk he was in no hurry enjoying nature and all it's beauty,
An old man stretching his legs enjoying the season of autumn and golden leaves.

He stopped again to talk to a very old laborer, who was busy clearing ditches,
And had you been nearer you would have heard their nostalgic talk of past days,
About the changes in that part of the country agreeing they disliked any change,
They shook hands and the old man waved and carried on with his autumnal day out.

Many years ago he was young and full of life, girls marveled at his thick arms,
In youth he was buoyant and sang songs and made love, went to wakes and party's
But now his wooing days had passed but still there was a twinkle in his old eyes,
His beautiful wife a rosy light hearted damsel had passed on, his son, moved away.

Back in the day he was strong and lusty he had no fear or cares his life was good
But now he was much leaner and his muscle's gone it left him like an old dry kex,
Sure those days where much better for him there was no comparison, none at all,
He went on his way and in his mind he was no older he saw all with youthful eyes.

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2013

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