Crisp russet leaves begin to fall

amid the early autumn squall

no more we’ll hear that clamoured call

as swallow flies

 

Each night the sun makes haste to set

tonight will be the soonest yet

while bitter breezes blow their threat

as summer dies

 

And now we barely hear a sound

as sleepy hedgehogs go to ground

in secret refuges they’ve found

and close their eyes

 

Through garden pond and flooded fen

in every forest, hill and glen

the seasons turn and cry amen

‘neath wintry skies