Autumn in the Park
Uneven rocky ground covered by
A pattern of firm smooth shapes.
Rays of the sun pierce through the branches
Of the majestic red cedar above;
One light becomes a hundred
And reveals the spectrum of greys below,
Covered by the lost children of the tree,
in a mixture of crimson, amber and yellow.
The cosy scarf still bears the smell of attic,
As I ponder over summer’s whereabouts and
Wrap my fingers around the hot steel cup.
Comforted by the taste of chamomile, I gaze over
This graveyard of leaves.