Autumn Poem by Gill Dobson

Pale ice-dome sky rises

Out of a peach-gold sunset,

Arching over the darkening town,

Its vast expanse broken

By cloud-smoke swathes of lilac and grey,

And silhouetted shapes of trees and rooftops.

Flame robed trees,

Pin-oaks, poplars and maples,

Shed their exotic garments piecemeal,

Lifting their nuding limbs to the cold sky,

In dancing defiance

Of winter's presaged chill.

Rubber-soled joggers

Lost in their iPod worlds and

Deaf to the barking of neighbourhood dogs,

Crunch carelessly over the gold-brown carpet of leaves

That smothers the road verges,

And puff breath clouds measure their cadent passing.

As gloom descends and ice-blue sky turns to dusky grey,

Street lights open their bright eyes

Winking a welcome

To home bound cars

And wood-smoke drifts from tall chimneys

Silhouetted black

Against the charcoal sky.

My spirits lift

As a voice within,

Speaking of light and warmth,

Of armchairs and fire light

And air redolent

With the smell of home cooking

Calls me home to my hillside refuge.

This poem was submitted by the author Gill Dobson, inspired by the early autumn scene on her way home from work, thank you so much for sharing and well done to Gill. We look forward to receiving more local works for publishing.