Autumn by Bob Eccleston

 This is the season of the year
when the softness of the summer
grazes against winter’s roughness
The hips and haws are bursting forth
The blood red berries contrasting
with the black pods of seeding broom
Leaves on the trees begin changing
from summertime exuberance
to their funereal shades in
readiness for their fated fall
In the meantime I am grazing
upon the year’s final harvest
The most luscious of all the fruits
deep purple tempting blackberries
Food for both the mind and palate
Allegedly a remedy
impeding the brain’s slow sinking
into the morass of old age
A journey to be discouraged
for as long as it’s possible