The gentle crush of a treasure trove
Beneath my thick soles
Brushing over
And stomping through
Rubies and shining coins
That begin to slowly
Curl up at the sides.
There is a peaceful power
In holding the last of the
Years warmth
Between my palms,
Slowly faded watercolours
That the bees long ago
Neglected
When the chill in the air
Took over from the last
Sleepy rays.
It's a slow route to
Stiff mud and sharp frost
Meandering past
A scene of beauty.
The last of green swiped
Like a paintbrush and
Dotted with sunset spices
Is damp from fairies dew
Beads of glistening diamonds
Atop the fronds
And wetting my feet.
Wings struggle to hide
Among wooden branches
But camouflage completely
When within the fallen riches
At the twisted root
The ground still soft enough
To retrieve the feasts of summer
Before they wither away.
Richer air forms my breath
Free from the thick cling of humidity
And not yet a chill down my throat
The soft wind tickles around me
And all around is golden
The day fading into a ruby glow.