First Fallen

 

Costume jewellery spider webs,

Strung with dewy diamond beads,

Grassy fields sequin-scattered,

Festooning even lowly weeds.

 

Kamikaze helicopters,

Sycamore skydivers,

Twist and twirl and flit and swirl:

First fallen survivors.

 

Velveteen fog descends,

Smothering the world in grey,

Casting thick and syrupy gloom

To obfuscate the break of day.

 

Luscious canopies transform,

Speckled with season’s rust;

Flame-tipped or foliage brushed

With ruddy blush or gilt gold-dust.

 

Branch by branch neatly disrobed,

These russet-tasseled trees,

Each leaflet floats and drifts to ground,

Plucked clean by bitter breeze.

 

Spiky shells cracked on the ground

Reveal their chestnut jewels,

The gleaming treasure gathered up

For playtime fun in schools.

 

Slick September showers

Fill the air with earthy scent;

Roads and pavements puddle-riddled

Soaked by autumn skies’ lament.

 

Once crisp leaves are moulded

Into multicoloured mulch;

Muddied borders line the streets

In roadside gutter gulch.

 

Shivering and sodden,

Breath curling into vapour,

Fraught commuters brace the winds

With faces white as paper.

 

Indigo-hued twilight falls

And lengthy shadows creep,

To duly warn the waiting world

Of winter’s coming sleep.

 

Emma H, age 26, 27/09/2017

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