A gentle breeze sweeps my face
With fragrance of lavender in the air
The  summer is leaving its trace
Blowing a perfume to my hair.

The buzzing of bees collecting the nectar
From flowers before they die
This season’s colours have been spectacular
To confirm I hear an overhead lark cry.

The gate to the golden field is now quite frail
But its days are far from over.
Watching over the autumn’s hay bales
Enriched with buttercups and purple clover.

Autumn has come knocking at the door
Orchards golden paths lined with ripe pears
Nuts and berries, rich purple damsons galore
Nature proud of its produce and fruity wares.