Morning Passion…


An early morning excursion revealed far more than I had expected. After a gentle stroll along an oft-treaded short cut through a local park, a rather thick fog seemed to descend as I approached a wooded area, enveloping all within it’s mist.

I was fortunate enough to locate a nearby bench through the murkiness, and I resolved to sit and wait for the gloom to lift. So as the morning progressed, visibility began to rapidly improve, and I was treated to a true wonder of nature, igniting my thoughts as vividly as the grand display before my eyes. My heart was stolen in a moment of passion, and Autumn has now become, against all odds, the season of love!

I feel so fortunate that I was able to record in this poem a glimpse of what I had seen this morning through the eyes of my enamoured heart.


Here in the woods there lays a carpet of soft golden down,
And trees beneath which repose beds of ambery brown,
That rustle underfoot and scatter in the breeze,
As watery sunlight glitters amongst the leafy seas.

Abundant fruits promise most mellow flavours,
Floral passions now replaced by pastel papers,
Sounds of crackling chestnuts mingle in the smoky air,
Prize Pumpkins soon for sale in the market square.

Early morning fog cloaks hidden treasures,
Then lifts to reveal a riot of fiery pleasures,
Nature’s last stand brings on it’s greatest shows,
The tinderbox is open! How it sparkles and glows!

Wispy mists battle a distant sun,
But neither can win for Winter’s Spectre has come,
The season resigns to be sentenced by Jack Frost,
So enjoy Autumn’s fragrance before it is lost!

8 thoughts on “Morning Passion…

    • Thank you so much for your kind words and encouragement, I am truly humbled. Autumn is indeed well documented through poetry, but perhaps it can be said that the shades, textures and feelings that it can invoke in the observer (and thus expressed through the written word) can be as varied and exciting as our own understanding and imagination allows, providing almost limitless opportunities for poetic verse?

  1. Great poem!
    Autumn leaves mesmerizing me and like a child I begin to collect them. Leo Buscaglia and some of his students, one time collected them from the front yard and spread them in his living room.

    • Thank you so much for your kind words Madeline!
      Autumn can generate a variety of feelings in the discerning observer, as in the case of your childhood memories, or Felice Leonardo and his students.
      The key, in my humble opinion, is to set oneself free and “connect”. Collection of leaves etc is a delightful manifestation of that.

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