Cooler air signals summers ending

gate

Sun wanly shines, warmth pretending,

cooler air signals summers ending,

this dying season I’m slowly befriending.

 

Leaves turn tan and downward fall,

sparrows follow warm wind call,

wasps get spiteful: stings for all.

 

A stand of trees embraces a church

Crow caw calls, beech lofty perch,

I cycled from suburbs on berry search.

 

This Sunday I explore country lanes,

my forefingers now show sticky stains,

box by box filled with foraged gains.

 

Silent cyclists speed by, Lycra equipped,

backs bent low, drop handlebars gripped,

I climb banks for berries, trying not to slip.

 

Crab apples, conkers roadside mangled,

bramble barbed, my jumper gets tangled,

thread-made haloes from thorny wrangles.

 

It’s the last of summer: goodbye, goodbye,

much greyer now that once-blue sky:

don scarves and gloves, find kites to fly.

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