LATE SUMMER

late summer


LATE SUMMER

Late summer now
And the little lost paths
Are dry and cindery under foot;
Dust and the early mist
Curling around the edges of the day. 

A leaf falls, as the trees
Shake their slow golden heads,
Filling the air with the sad sound
Of leaves falling, drifting, tumbling down. 

Over the hedge, the stubbled fields
Sigh, and settle into waiting
For their dry stalks to be ploughed
Into the earth.
Lovely furrows then, stretching
Into the infinity of a much older vision.  

And Autumn dances in the woods,
Her red and orange skirts
Billowing around her twinkling feet.
Her red-berried head bobbing with excitement
As the time comes
When her beauty can be seen in the burning forest,
Her loveliness caught in the cobwebbed hedgerows,
In those tiny, sparkling shawls of light,
That wrap us about
With the fierce grace and beauty of love. 

                                          © 2011 Gwen Grant

5 thoughts on “LATE SUMMER

  1. Bravo, Gwen!

    “Her loveliness caught in the cobwebbed hedgerows,
    In those tiny, sparkling shawls of light,
    That wrap us about
    With the fierce grace and beauty of love. ”

    This is, by far, the most heartfelt description of autumn I have ever read! The vivid metaphors “sparkling shawls,” “red and orange skirts,” “red-berried head,” are impeccable for autumn’s personification. Even though the end of summer evokes sadness, your poem made me fall in love with its golden beauty.

    Like

  2. This is a lovely comment, Veronica, not only taking me back into the poem but placing me firmly back into the place it came from. Your perceptive, clear eyed and sensitive appreciation is much appreciated. Many thanks. Gwen,

    Liked by 1 person

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