Musings of a Septuagenarian Cyclist

                                    AUTUMN

Season of mists and wistful listlessness.
Summer now gone, ‘though golden leaves rejoice its former glory;
hov’ring kestrel and white-arsed jay lift my spirits on this dull grey day.

Memories seep from field, from tree, from stream
of recent days when summer flowers bedecked the roadside verge and
courting couples lazed beneath the sultry sun.

Those summer nights, when birdsong marked the early dawn
of days, which stretched through noon towards an eve
of heavy-scented air, with acrobatic bats upon their prey.

This season has its charm of course, for when the sun shines bright
upon the land, true peace descends upon our hearts and minds;
autumnal tranquility now prevails.

image

A time for looking back – but also through approaching winter
to the coming spring. Spring! That time of resurgent growth; of life reborn anew – full of vivid colour, full of hope.

If seasons are a metaphor for life, autumn is happily where I now reside
with love and wisdom stored through spring and summer;
autumnal tranquility now pervades my life.

One difference though, I share with all mankind – whilst after winter
I’ll rejoice the coming spring, a metaphor of seasons clearly means
that each must be employed, enjoyed in full …… with no return.

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