The Poetry Place

Autumn 2

Thursday, 16 October 2008 10:22:07
This morning the air is sharp, the sky is pale blue. The sun low and making striking shapes and shadows as it comes through trees trunks and branches. There are contrasts at this time of year - falling leaves, withered, crinkled, next to sweet peas still managing to bloom in ones and twos. Dark red leaves of chard, light red stalks; other leaves gorgeous green. Perhaps I need to know the names of more colours. Green just isn't good enough - but (and this must be an issue for any writer) what if I know that name and my reader doesn't? The seed pods on plants, especially honesty, are great - little silver coins - and though the trees are in a perpetual rustle, the ivy is still, oblivious. There's something rather ominous about it.

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