Just as classic paintings caught the public eye
pasted as sickly décor for gift box lids
Autumn is in danger of the cliché
like seasoned blackberry pickers, dead poets
have already had the choicest words to cherish
this most august off-summer spectacle
whilst lyricists in Oriental enigma code
condense with stricture of syllable
lunar patterns of lateral thought
yet who amongst us in not moved
to stop and stare, intoning vows
that fix the moment in a Faustian pact
we too have walked trance-like
through fiery forests and heard the ghostly touch
of each leaf fall before the mold set ins
stirred by mix of melancholy moments
a circling Samhain of climactic climate
that celebrates its ending in la petite mort
strong colours and fierce brushwork
more than sixty harvests reaped and gleaned
still Autumn leaves me speechless
© Laura Granby 2015
More free versifying this Sunday as I join the many talents stored up at Poetry Pantry
PoetryPix 
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