Autumn’s Grace

In autumn’s breath, the earth does sigh, As leaves of gold fall one by one, The trees, stripped bare under a cobalt sky, Their story told as day is done.

With brambles ripe and air so sweet, The harvest yields its fragrant feast, And as the sun tumbles, a soft retreat, Life’s gentle cycle finds its least.

In every whisper, every song, The pulse of nature hums with ease, In autumn’s grace, where souls belong, The fading light, a soft reprise.

• Mary Webb