Autumnal Poem by Martin Swords
Autumnal
Now is the golden browning of the year,
early dusky evenings, and the quiet.
A time of listless leaves and branches,
a settling, and a dignity of dying.
Smells of damp and rolling mist,
now haunt the hedges and the willows
of the river valley field.
The evening bells sound dampened in
the thick of Autumn air.
The year is closing down
to sleep the winter sleep through frost and chill.
Silent snow will follow in its time
sealing the land in white and crispy cold,
freezing in death what life will need to live
When all is dark in winter, thoughts
of bluebells ringing in the dell
keep hope alive that spring will peal anew
Martin Swords
June 2002
Absolutely beautifully penned. It sits with the great poems by established writers. I must read more by you.
Good descriptive poem here so masterfully penned Martin. You took us into those autumn lanes and fields and we felt the mists along with the last line of hope for spring and bluebell time again before too long. Lovely, and thank you - - - from Fay.
You have captured the essence of all things autumnal in this beautiful piece. A musical flow of words. Praise for your gifted Irish pen. As always, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 7:58:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Lovely...just lovely, i can almost smell the damp sweet earth, alana