The lust of Summer now smokes a cigarette,
replete, exhausted and spent.
Beach bums and young mums chunter and sigh,
wondering where the sun went.
As the first pinch of Autumn disturbs the dark rooks
and the seagulls follow the plough.
So too the equinox shortens the day
and the leaf starts to fall from the bough.
Nature's larder, heavy with fruit,
a precursor to Winter's foreboding.
Harvest is here, and thankful congregations,
with natures bounty are loading
the apse and the nave to thank God he gave
a return for their toil and endeavour.
Now mist shrouded fields, heavy with dew,
herald a change in the weather.
As nature shuts down in village and town
the curtained population
draw near to the fire or else they retire
to sire the next generation.
So the seasons expire and new ones are borne
each with their own special task.
But a Summer with sunshine and long, endless days
is surely not too much to ask?
Copyright © John Jones | Year Posted 2020
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