Autumn Damp
Wet lawns awaiting final cut
Long uneven shocks of grass harbouring windfalls
Of soft decaying garden fruit
Bruises oozing juicy sweetness
Undersides brown and rotting
Their musky warmth home to lazy drunken wasps
Droppings and sheddings from near-naked trees
Scratchy branch-fingers standing stark against the sky
Of a late misty morning
Among the mulching mess of leaves
Shading grey then into black
A fading dark, damp mush
Food for insects and work for worms
Mouldering down into foul and stinking mess
And the rich, rank stench of dying
Rambling brambles scratching, tangling
Snagged with over-ripened berries
Bursting and staining the fingers
Before falling, bruised and broken
Down among bedraggled nettles
Strewn heavy with dew-droplets
And in the darker shady places
Sprout musky mushrooms and toxic toadstools
The only livid growths amongst funereal hues
And now we lose the light
And gain the chill of shorter days
Sending shivers through the cobwebs
Soggy silver hunting nets
Strewn dewy amongst the weeds
And auburn leaf-fall
The occasional flash of gold or red
Between the darker shades of the grim-hued palette
Of the tired ground
As it awaits the swirling fogs
That will come to embrace it
And bring the freezing kiss of Winter
