Decided to play around with inner feelings of being on holiday in autumn. The profusion of yellow, gold and brown, the windy wet drizzly day, the crab apple tree in our front garden, and the increasing irrelevance of harvest thanksgiving as a liturgy for local, rural agriculture in a globalised world - all combine to create a mood mostly playful but with an elegiac hint of Autumn's annual reminder to us all! I've always liked autumn in a kind of sorry to see summer go sort of way - the changing colours of trees and garden, the sense of season's coming and going, the rhythm of vitality in spring, maturity in summer, fruitfulness in autumn and dormant rest in winter. And maybe also because my roots are in country rather than city. In any case, here's some of the inner conversation going on just now.
Autumn Haiku
Windy autumn rain.
Showers of yellow falling leaves;
trees prepare to sleep.
.
Like much too early
frosted scarlet Christmas balls,
crab apples hang down.
.
Harvest fruit gathered;
winter storage, dated since
globalisation.
.
A fruitful autumn,
like ripe middle aged people,
well preserved wisdom.
.
A fruitful autumn,
like well preserved people,
middle aged wisdom.
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