Just as Spring starts to show itself, a wee poem about Autumn. Ah well…
October October taps on my bedroom window. A cold sound, relentless. Out there, Autumn slowly kills, in its usual, beautiful way. First light reveals a golden irony. Leaves wave from cold branches. They beckon me to bear witness to the richness of their going. But gold, is not the colour of death, and life continues at the bud. Isn’t this what we all hope for? A last flush of beauty, a promise of rebirth. Derek Ross.
An exquisite finale Derek
” Isn’t this
what we all hope for?
A last flush of beauty,
a promise of rebirth.”
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My sentiments exactly, Ivor!
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Thank you Liz..
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You’re welcome, Ivor.
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thanks again Liz. By the way, I made a mistake, Charles Hamilton Sorley was born in Aberdeen! Got him mixed up with William Hamilton. oops
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You’re welcome, Derek. No worries about the oops! I didn’t know the difference.
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Thanks for that comment Ivor, makes things worthwhile. I like your “Fern Called Hope”, poems and pic go well together.
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And thank you Derek.
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I have always felt that Autumn is a time of rebirth. There is a warm energy that pervades the world, a gentle reminder to embrace “a promise of rebirth.”
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My favourite time of years to be honest. Mind you, with the Scottish weather, the leaves dont last too long!
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