Facing Winter Poem by David Wood

The silky afternoon sun
Bathed the river Tawe
In silver streaks.
From tree lined banks
Fading leaves turned brown,
Gave up and fell
Like soldiers going over the top.
Climbing up cast iron trunks
Crept ivy,
Choking their hosts
Alder and sycamore,
It didn't care which,
Weeping willow,
And white willow,
Lining the bank fared better.
Survival of the fittest
Prevailing over God's plan.
The beauty of nature
Raw, ugly, brutal.
Far removed from
Manicured country parks.
Late autumn,
Preparing for winter
And survival.