Poem - Blankney In Autumn

Another poem from my Blankney Anthology written in 1995.

Blankney In Autumn

The season changes once again
The fields look bare and thin
Softened now by Autumn rain
The harvest gathered in
Summers green gives way to gold
The ploughman earns his living
And in the church, both young and old
Gather for thanksgiving
Woodland walks show us now
The village at its best
Cascading leaves, shed as trees
Prepare for winters rest
Tall chimney pots puff smoke again
As through the gathering gloom
Firelight flickers on window panes
To light a cosy room
So hurry home with hastened stride
The hooting owl is calling
There's no place like a fireside
When Autumn leaves are falling

Rodney Garlant