NOT JUST ABOUT LEAVES

Yes, it’s always about autumn
For so many, the best season
Perhaps it is a time to ponder
Or in morning mists, wander
But winter’s ice is not treason
As is proven in post-mortem

One can always sense the turn
As the span of a pretty bridge
Crossing from a summer’s joy
To fields of brown courduroy
And colder air from the fridge
Of the change, much to learn

As ever a remarkable transition
It resonates well, often in verse
And as a favourite time of year
Whose progress it tries to steer
Its language is full and not terse
Metaphor needs no permission