Mable-Crested Verdure

Autumn, she is a beauty

Morning air is cool and crisp, she meets the waking sun ladled in a frosty-dew and swathed in a tightly wrapped fog. Soon the frosty yellow globe of another autumn day waxes bright and clear. The breeze rests slightly on my skin not even brash enough to rustle maple brittle leaves, which are hanging by a thread.

This ‘Air Wick by Nature’ makes warm my memories as I detect the faint smell of leaves burning, it is a soft earthy smell that lightly mingles with a distant fireplace that brings the fragrance of red oak to the bouquet. As I travel my path a musky hint of wet oak leaves and pine needles arise from the forest floor where I walk. I spy a living carpet of; red maples, yellow birch, scarlet sycamores and aspen golds.

The trunk of an old cedar is overtaken by a thick vine which overwhelms the aroma with the warm sweet amber smell of honey-suckle. My steps carry me further into the woods a pecan tree is left bare except for her ripened bounty.

The heavy scent of apples and mums travel on the wind and as I crest the ridge to the shores of the lake. I smell cool water and hear a single splash of a brown trout which soon will be my supper; the growing sound of geese approach for they are coming to call.

Reviews

[Art Sun]

a nice walk through your autumn thoughts...a nicely written piece with many soothing phrases of that sense we all cherish...nice Cherrie...

[SHEEMA HUQ]

plenty of rich authoratitive ( as in you sound so experienced) imagery with lively vibrant discriptions, your choice of small text, for the last passage, emphasises the personal significance of the poem, which is great!

[Cherrie]

good morning, Sheema, this fine Monday and thank you for looking at my poem

[MOON]

Lovely ode to autumn love the air wick by nature. Good prose.

[Ed Hart]

prose and picture, capture the season and my very friendly nod

[Cherrie]

Thank you, I love autumn nothing better than an indian summer