72 Miles From The Sea by Paul Curtis (e novels to read txt) 📖

adding to mother natures golden gown


OCTOBERNESS

Misty mornings
Start dim and dismal
Penetrating Dampness
Seeping into your bones
Some days it brightens later
Enough for shirtsleeves
Then when darkness falls
Curtains are drawn
At the months beginning
Grass is still growing green
The trees are well covered still
Then leaves turn green to yellow
Yellow is burnished to gold
Gold to burning red
Then red to earth
Beyond the equinox
Days have already become
More dark than light
Before the clocks fall back
And the sun sets sooner
Days of sunshine deceive
Sheltered pockets warm and confuse the senses
In the later days
When the residual warmth diminishes
The bite remains
To herald worse to come


GOLDEN HARVEST

The autumn leaves fall
Like flakes of gold
Drifting to earth like surreal snow
In the golden harvest
As they fall they dance
Wildly in the breeze
To autumns tune
Before coming to rest
Then on peaceful mornings
They gather in the quiet corners
That pepper the autumn landscape
Cast like a threadbare cloak
Spread by mother natures hand
And in the misty morn
The golden harvest
Lays deep and undisturbed
Like collected thoughts
In the corners of my mind
The watery sun slowly burns away the mist
And Illuminates the October landscape
Before the wind disturbs the peace
And chases the leaves away
Scattering them like my dreams


I ALWAYS LOVED THE TIME OF YEAR

I always loved the time of year
Long before that perfect day
It was a perfect morning
The best of autumn
The sky the clearest blue
The air crisp and clean
The last remnants of mist
Burnt away by the rising watery sun
And there she stood
As if to improve on nature itself
A vision of perfection
Standing at the edge of the woods
From beneath her woolen hat
Flaming red hair fell
Then danced upon her shoulders
And caught on her scarf
Breath plumed from her smiling mouth
As she spoke to her dog
Then she began to walk
The hem of her long coat swung
With the rhythm of her hips
As she strode into the woods
The spaniel chasing a stick she had thrown
Her boots crunching leaves underfoot
Still crisp with frost
Where the sun hadn’t reached
“Come on Jimbo” I said
Letting the dog out of the car
And we followed her into the wood
I walked amidst the skeletal trees
Where Squirrels ran here and there
Still busily preparing for winter
I kicked through the carpet of leaves
Feeling like a schoolboy again
And birds settled in my wake
Feeding on insects in the disturbance
In a clearing I saw her again
Her red hair like fire
Illuminated in the sunlight
The dogs soon introduced each other
And we did also
Two dog lovers talking in a wood
Two people who would become lovers
Who both loved the time of year


FALL FESTIVAL

The summer comes to an end
Sooner than anyone believes
And so begins autumns festival
Of dancing painted leaves


AUTUMN REFLECTIONS

I stood on the wet sand
On that cold autumn morning
In the autumn of my years
With the breeze off the sea
Chilling my old bones
And gazed out across the bay
To the distant purple hills
Their edges blurred and softened
By the early morning mist
Their indistinct silhouette
Reflected on the moving water
The tidal water pulling at the reflection
As it moved inexorably to the open sea
And seemingly carrying with it
All of my unfulfilled hopes and dreams
With a shiver I turned from the scene
And made my way along the beach
My eyes were drawn to the hillside
Where the sparsely covered trees stand
With the last of the leaves falling
Each fluttering to the ground
Each leaf’s fall symbolic
Like the dates of a calendar
Being peeled off one by one
Ticking off the days of my life
As I head towards my winter


AUTUMN TREASURE

All was calm, in the morning
After the autumn storm
Had stripped bare the trees
And swept the fallen harvest
To havens sheltered from the gale
In the calm clear night
The frost crisped the land
Holding all in suspended animation
Everything where it fell
As the sun strengthened
To melt away the frost
Leaves spill from the bottom of hedgerows
Like golden coins from treasure chests
In a vast well filled vault
Soon enough this fallen bounty
Would again be scattered
Across the landscape
On the next autumnal weather front


GRANDDADS GLORIOUS HARVEST

As late summer
Heads towards the autumn
Great industry is evident
In the golden fields
As the tireless farmers
Gather in nature’s bounty
And come days end
The weary labourers
Tread across the fields
Once full of waving corn
The fields now adorned
With flaxen structures
These sons of the soil
Look upon the scene
With pride and relief
Pride in a job well done
And relief at finishing
While the good weather held
They head towards the village
With heads held high
And parched throats
Soon to be quenched
The entire village joins them
To celebrate the gathering
Raising a glass or two
Laughter resounding
As they watch the setting sun


MISTY MORNING

The early morning sunlight
Creeps across the meadow,
Where in the wet grass
The rabbits make their dawn patrol

In the meadows quiet corners
The sun glints on dewdrops
Trapped within the intricacies
Of a labyrinthine spiders web

Though the morning sun is weak
And too soft to burn the mist
It still banishes the darkness
And another day begins


THREE SEASONS IN A WEEK

It was a bracing walk
The sun shone brightly on the lake,
A weak autumnal sun,
Bright but un-warming
And a light wind stirred the branches
Of the leafless weeping cherry tree
And added to the chill
The familiar pair of resident ducks
Bobbed on the choppy surface
Seemingly oblivious to the cold
Mist on the distant mountains
Hinted at what was to come
By the time I pushed open my front gate
I was suitably refreshed
And glad to be home

That night the storm hit
A storm that began as a hurricane
Far out across the ocean
Then as it hit the land
It was merely a tropical storm
When it got to us it was just a storm
But what a storm it was
Thick black clouds turning day to night
It rained and promised to rain even more
Inches and inches of rain
Large gray drops ran down the bare trees
And splashed on the grey waters of the lake
Bouncing off the green and brown backs
Of the resilient swimming ducks
The Hurricanes remnants
Took three days to pass
And left the lake considerable deeper
.
In the calm after the storm
We basked in the warmth
Of a bonus summers like day
Left in the tropical storms wake
The two ducks swam lazily across the still water
Bees were out looking for flowers
Ants crawled around in the grass,
Adding to their winter stock of food.
And squirrels chattered away
As they searched for acorns and pine nuts
And ran amongst the shadows
Of the dogwood trees
A blue heron flew to the very top
Of the leafless weeping cherry tree
Doubtless lost in the storm
It spent the day recharging its batteries
And getting its bearings
Later it joined the ducks on the water
Obviously to ask directions

The next day summer had gone again
And autumn had returned
The day began with an overcast sky and chilly breeze
Later as I walked for a while beside the lake
It had become a warm and sunny day.
Warm of course, is a relative term
It was above freezing, just
The sun was bright; the wind light but cold
All was silent, the waters calm
A duck slept in the shadow
Of the leafless weeping cherry
The other was close by but silent
And the blue heron was perched,
Motionless, on the top of the bare dogwood
Before it launched itself
And after circling the lake once it was on its way
The squirrels were hiding
I saw no bees searching for flowers
And the ants were out of sight

Winter arrived yesterday
With heavy snow falling in the morning
Then the skies cleared
And the temperature plummeted
Today the landscape wass even more beautiful
And the lake was frozen
The ducks were no where to be seen
I don’t know where they go
But they always come back
The ground is crisp under foot
And it is very very cold
The squirrels were the only creatures I saw
And they were happily raiding their stores
Feasting on acorns and chasing around
I decided it was too cold for me
And headed for the fireside
Too reflect on this week’s abundance of seasons

WINTER

DARK DAYS OF WINTER

Stinging sleet on north winds blow
Biting wind brings driving snow
Freezing fog with bitter chill
Frost and ice over vale and hill
Long cold nights and short dark days
These are winters unfriendly ways

WINTER WHITE

Snow falling softly - silently
Covered landscapes - evenly
Turning darkness into light
Shrouded in clinical white
Days of blue sky’s bright
Clear frost filled night

DRIFTING ON THE WIND

The snowflakes drift upon the wind
And settle on the windowsill
But also on the winter winds
Comes the sting of winters chill

WINTER

Standing in the hushed silence
Breath pluming in the frost filled air
Beneath the deep velvet blue of the night sky
Broken only by the myriad of glistening stars
My futile thoughts are lost in its enormity
I’m suddenly startled by my own insignificance
I feel alone, hopeless and helpless
A bitter chill touches my bones
I walk on over the linen shrouded land
Footsteps treading crisply in the white
My breath still plumes though less so
The velvet curtain of night has gone
Hidden behind grey brown clouds
Then the cold frosty night was no more
As the wind freshens against my cheek
And in that instant fresh snow falls
Seemingly silencing my footfalls
Large soft flakes drifting haphazardly
Like confetti on a wedding day
Or cherry blossom in springtime
It fell faster, then faster still
Quickly obscuring my footprints
And blinding my view, disorienting
A bitter chill again touched my bones
The wind now stung my face with snow
As the blizzard of bridle white blew
I bent into the northerly gale
Head down eyes narrowed almost closed
I stopped briefly to catch my breath
Insignificance washed over me again
I knew I must go north into the mouth of it
The silent hush was no more as the blizzard blew
My feet no longer crunched on frost and ice
The deepening snow slowing my progress
Each step I must drag my feet from the snows grip
With each step I grow wearier
Feeling hopeless and helpless
Alone, insignificant and small,
Smaller than a single snow flake
Smaller than the snowflakes around me
A bitter chill again touched my bones
Then suddenly I am again filled with hope
As I pass between the old wrought iron gates
Into the city street beyond and home

WHITE NIGHT

Like a ribbon of pure white silk
The road crossed the dale
Frost coated the window pains
While the moonlight bathed the vale

Under the star filled winter sky
Icicles are illuminated by moonlight
The stark beauty of the landscape
Is best viewed in the glow of the firelight


THROUGH FROSTED GLASS

The