Daybreak mist hugs web-silvered ground.
Trees stretch dripping limbs in search
Of dawning sun, which creeps to hang low and silver.
Blousy blooms lift bowed heads once more
To swagger with late-life bravado;
Cold blood warmed, senile bees blunder
As they chase departed scents;
Plump fruits, bloated, wanton, spin,
Hips, scarlet as painted lips, gossip
Deep within haw studded hedgerows;
Lightly frosted rosebuds stagger upright,
Destined to remain furled, perfectly painted, tipping
Shrubby fingers a fine candy pink;
Leaves, henna streaked, cavort, carouse, shimmy.
Teasing, they strip, swirl, twirl,
Fall, as Autumn, golden-aged seductress, creeps
From her summer lover’s bed,
One last time.
I have noticed the chill at night and it is in such contrast to this amazing daytime weather we are enjoying. My garden is thoroughly confused. Some trees are showing the beginnings of an autumn tinge yet the sweet peas are still flowering – most peculiar. My favourite flowers for this time of year though are the blousy dahlias strutting their stuff in the beds and even the vegetable garden. They feature in the poem posted at the start of this post for the dverse challenge – see http://dversepoets.com/2012/09/08/poetics-autumn-chill-is-in-the-air/