Leave Taking

You can tell that the weather has changed when the dog takes up her position in front of the Aga. 

Leave Taking

Storms lashed and now the leaves have turned

burn-bronze and yellow on the wind.

It's warm

and swarms of wasps stagger

woozy on windfalls.

The pond perfume, so sweetly rank

adds to the falling note,

speaks softly of decay

although today is kind,

sunshine between the showers.

But,

it's over.

There's that melancholy sense of loss,

leave taking once again.

Blooms mottle into mould. I look out socks and jumpers

and, like summer, I feel old.