October Holiday Poem by John Rickell

My pen is dry,
wrist cramped and cold,
must try a history.
I have seen such things
you would not believe
autumn leaves the least
no rain for fourteen days
except a little drizzle,
gentle winds and fluffy clouds
red kite watching asphalt roads
badgers in the gutter, stoats
stretching long across the lane,
white tails in alarm, hedges
maple trees orange red
waiting for the first frost.
Crows, bramble-black
waiting a careless mouse.
Beers with funny names,
bitter hops and friendly talk.
Home tomorrow leave behind
the harvest trailers, potato full
scratching in the dark
before the winter time.
Home to Jack I left behind
and wished I'd not,
country walks are not the same
when no one says ‘come on’
there's a bone and biscuits
in the boot where he would sleep
a present from my holiday.........
Next time he'll come with me.