Polly

Writings and Witterings

Autumn Wonder

21 Comments

Hips and haws, tomato red,
Old Man’s Beard has left a thread,
Feathers strewn in flowerbed,
I wonder at these things.

Now the hawthorn haws are here,
The hips from roses every year,
So many things could interfere,
I wonder at these things.

I’ve looked at things from high and low,
So many wonders they bestow,
There is much mystery we outgrow,
I wonder at these things.

The winter wonderland unfolds
As autumn fades to story told,
Frosts and damp and biting cold,
I wonder at these things.

It truly is another show,
The rain comes down, wind whumps and blows,
While warm indoors we start to glow,
I wonder at these things.

I’ve looked at things from high and low,
So many wonders they bestow,
There is much mystery we outgrow,
I wonder at these things.

Polly Robinson © 2012

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21 thoughts on “Autumn Wonder

  1. I wonder at AND am in wonder of these things. Sometimes the world we live in is just marvellous. Good write!

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  2. Not only wonderful sentiments, but this poem has the rhythm of a hiking song on the hills and footpaths. Wonderful rollicking!

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  3. This is marvelous, Polly–I am hiking with you as your words alternately flow or roll along, so beautifully.

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  4. As much as I love warm weather, there is something about autumn I adore. I think you summed it up here. 🙂

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  5. Lovely. You captured fall at its finest.

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  6. That’s proper lovely, that is x

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  7. i wonder at these things..beautiful…you know…i loved california but when i took a walk today back here in germany through the autumnal landscape..i thought i would miss the season so much…so much magic…so much wonder..

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    • We’re just back from some time in Devon at the Arvon Foundation. The autumn colours are almost indescribable ~ but I’ll do my best when I post the photos 😉

      I sometimes think I’d like to live somewhere warmer … but agree, I’d miss the seasons too …

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  8. Ah, those wonderful leaves…. 🙂

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  9. Very evocative, Polly. You’ve captured autumn’s dual nature – the breath-taking beauty of the colours, but the feeling of decay and death.

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  10. A real classic feel to this one, Polly, I could feel the wet leaves slapping my cheeks.

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