“Happiness is to get lost in an autumn forest, and not to be found is even a greater happiness! Mehmet Murat ildan
The breeze is crisp
And filled with the scent
Of burning leaves
As she steps carefully
Along the banks
Of a meandering stream;
Leaves cover its quiet pools
Then run willy-nilly down
It's quicker waters as
A bright autumn sun
Shimmers through her
Auburn hair,
Where it hangs loose
From beneath
A golden cashmere beanie,
And sparkles from
The bronze metallic threads
Woven through
Her cashmere cardigan.
How she loved fall!
It was the time
When the earth began
Its annual slumber
And the spirit took flight
As the holidays appeared
On yon horizon.
More than with spring,
More than with summer,
She feels alive
And filled with the joys
Of the seasons as the world
Slips into
Sleep.
In all my meanderings through the sometimes deep and crunchy leaves under the wildly covered canopy of those still flaming in the waning sun, I never came across her so that we could share notes. Alone, we both had to enjoy the solitude and serenity that the other enjoyed as well.
Your poem took me there and made me wish I had come across her by that meandering brook.
Who doesn’t enjoy this
‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness..’
Diana..🍃
Fee
Regis. 🙏🌳🍂🍁🦉
Your poem took me there and made me wish I had come across her by that meandering brook.
Ron