Looking across the misty fields
Fields that once shone green.
Now sheep have footprints
The lambs know where they've been.
Spiders hang on lace doilies
frozen silk in the air.
Draped from pillar to post
Spiders spinning everywhere.
The last of a bloom grips its stem
petals parting in the breeze
Laying down with crunchy leaves
parted company from the trees.
So now the landscape is a
beautiful patchwork of gold
Turning deeper brown as we go
Winter is about to unfold.
Then we will be dappled with white
flakes of ice falling from fluff
From the dark starry skies at night
Picture postcard stuff.