So the colours fade

Autumn bronze to winter grey

We fall into shade

All ideas are free

Who gives them power to rise?

Just a few survive

Could we stay hidden

Waiting in this hollow hole

While the world moves on?

Your golden crown falls

Still home to buzzard and mice

In your autumn years

Camera pointed up

Can you see something I can’t?

I suppose I can

Yet however high

I climb, there will always be

A higher mountain

Though the water moves

The falls seem to stay the same

Going nowhere fast

The further I see

The fewer and less I know

Where I want to go

Just before the sun

Breaks out over rugged moors

There is great relief

Step into the fall

Let the force carry your call

The river is all

In the gloaming hour

In between day and darkness

There I am alive

Rain spatters over

Beaten down racks rusted brown

Brackish and unkempt

Beech’s golden crown

Drifts gently back down and rests

On the forest ground

Snatch sunlight slivers

Splintering silver sky screed

Softly soothes smooth skin

Teared from ragged limbs

Mourn this incantation’s end

Sweep for what we were

Neverlasting days

While yellow leaves still cling tight

Everending ways

I wonder who knows

Where the mycelium grows

And when the fruit shows

There’s a black sun spot

Burns and turns while branches rot

Seasons we forgot

Rolling static lines

Crackle over steel and glass

Disconnecting us

When do you listen

To the voices of my leaves

If wind gives them speech?

Focus not toward

The obstacle in the way

But on light from shade

Summer’s fallen grass

Should never have dared to reach

The oak tree’s stature

As the seasons change

Raging rivers return rain

Fire flows from flame