The Last of the Blackberries!

The cheery morning vibe – it beckons to the scribe – warming a welcome to set up the day,
Craving the energy of the outside air – where upon a motion it leads the way!
Arrival exchanges with neighbourly banter – while the autumn stream runs dry,
Turning on to the rise of the threshold wandering – where the world can pass on by!

Quick through the gateway – provisions weigh heavy – gladly rested come utility end,
Pausing a moment to drink in the atmosphere – following the path as it flows round the bend!
Parting the Rowans and on through the entrance – glimpsing the old Stones and Apple Trees,
Dogwood leaves painted in eye-shadow variations – taking the slow dance in the subtle breeze!

Golden yellow highlights – compliment the burning orange – like a tide caught on the brink,
Local patchwork pockets forming autumn circles – a multitude of grounded colours share the link!
Hints of lavender violets and the finest wines – speckle the greens with the rusts and the fade,
With the Roundhouse rumblings dressed to impress – fires of pigment boldly glow in the shade!

A hiding Buzzard calls and screeches – sheltering in the big southwestern border Hawthorn Tree,
A Raven is soon detected by the sound of its wings – approaching from the South for all to see!
Welcomed in its passing by a kindred brethren – as restless Robin performs his sneaks and peeks,
Hidden within the clusters – of the autumn bed musters – forever watchful as it search and seeks!

A lone Dragonfly’s adventure – through the Silver Birch stories – gliding a flightpath to and fro,
Meandering of its angles and their tired tangles – with its black polka-dot fading leaves on show!
The birdsong it grows – when accompanied by Crows – running their errands with a casual pass,
There are Mushrooms eager to nod their heads – large and small pushing up through the grass!

We take to the floor – for the traditional tour – round the outer circle – out and about,
Surveying the seasonal loops – while inspecting the troops – casting a vision fair throughout!
Monitoring trails – of homely desire lines – following contours and their well-trodden age,
There’s a fidget of female Pheasants – huddling under corner Willow – on the Moon Garden page!

A conscious collective bandy the fate of decisions – pulling together an action plan,
Tucking in the corners to the Northern Bed – giving a helping hand where we can!
With a byway mapped aiding definition – reinforcement refining the flow of the circle divine,
Successive the backboards moulding the form – a re-design Holly Bed awaits at the end of the line!

With the shading of shadows the sky growing dark – holding a hover and considering rain,
With a slow filled sail – of its dusky veil – moving off north-easterly and showing restrain!
High cloud it lingers – running sunshine through its fingers – pinprick spotlights igniting views,
Reaching out across the panoramic hills and valleys – with their fields of earthen hews!

As the workforce retires – my lyrical web aspires – capturing images for the history files,
Re-living the memories of seasonal echoes – complete with all their laughs and smiles!
I weave my strands of jute – to keep the hedge-line cute – almost forgotten in the lapse of time,
Corseting the final corner a shapely hedge – as I capture the moment with the thread of a rhyme!

On the strike of four – I start to gather preparation – with everything put in its place,
With the impending – of my trailing hailing – I strive for a comfortable pace!
The last of the Blackberries shrivel with the touch of frost – as we teeter at seasons end,
The hedgerow harlequin displays its jewels of pride – enhancing the vision of nature’s blend!

Pausing at will – to take in views of the hill – happy at a snail’s pace with the soil and the rocks,
With distant Crows – perusing the highs and lows – some alone and some in flocks!
The Gentry and the peasants – the male and female Pheasants – scatter as I round the bend,
The girls dive for cover a part of the scenery – the boys they run in circles – it’s lucky I’m a friend!

Hawthorn hedges – shaping the edges – with vibrant Ivy laces weaving a path of their own,
There’s a clump of Woody Nightshade – dripping in blue autumn purple – standing all alone!
A Magpie dips across the end of my journey – where two roads they come to meet,
I rest my wander under the Weeping Willow – up over the rise and my visit is complete!

oOo