Almost equinox, afternoons dwindle early into dusk.
Under bookshelves and in corners, spiders lurk and scheme.
Term starts, treading well-worn paths towards harvest, bonfires, Diwali, Christmas.
Unpredictable skies loom, but hesitating to store my summer clothes, I think
“Maybe there will be an Indian summer” and hope, shivering.
Not quite ready for winter, I leave my coat in the cupboard till October.
Words and photograph copyright 2017 by Paula Harmon. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission
Flame haired girl peeps from the forest
with her hazel eyes, warm in her dark orange dress.
Amber glimmers secretly
from her ears and throat.
Leaves crown her:
gold and yellow, jasper, topaz and garnet.
She looks through misty skies at empty fields,
the crops gathered, the soil dozing.
Berries like fat beads glisten in hedgerows,
rowan and hawthorn, pyracantha
and gorse and heather range like flame
across the moorlands.
The sky darkens earlier and earlier.
Soon, all will be dark, and cold and lonely for the sun.
But for now,
the Spirit of Autumn watches us,
crowned in leaves.
Words and photograph copyright 2016 by Paula Harmon.
All rights belong to the author
and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission