We sometimes underestimate the local beauty that surrounds us—let’s take the time to look.
All photos by me 🙂
This poem fits the photos.
Winter comes stealthing… it’s 5am dark,
silent and chilly; August hangs her head.
A wet summer trails to an autumn, stark,
the seasons have become confused, misled.
In light’ning sky sunless clouds leer,
pensive garden, still, holds its breath,
a blowsy brash overblown garb this year,
scents of autumn in a whispered caress.
Look! The birds still want to wake earlier.
Rising sun shifts the dark then wakes us;
dew-laden day assists the courtier
who with the sovereign sun will shake us,
Polly Stretton © 2012