Poem: At Home in Autumn

Rid of sticky summer sweat and

Campfire smoke that aims for eyes.

Done with shorts and t-shirts.

Safe from sunburnt skin.

I belong amidst the gold leaf fall,

When one can don tweed coats and wool hats,

Cover ears from bitter air, hide joints from dull cold aches,

Knit closed the moth holes in wool jumpers.

Trees release the burden of their clothing.

Squash of shed leaves underfoot,

Promise builds in darkening soil.

Stingy conifers refused to donate.

Bird song dampened by a denser medium.

Squirrels pack away winters lunch.

Mist smears scenes as watercolour.

Stovetop returns to labour for broth.

Grit bins filled for ice ahead.

My rootedness here soon upheaved.