An old, wooden and brass clock chimes sonorously over the sounds of nature preparing for winter.

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Watching the vapour trails of a high flying jet liner in a crisp blue autumn sky. The sky looks further away in autumn.

The Autumn Clock

Sky: blue and distant, icy.
Sun: washed out but golden,
makes slow comets of vapour trails,
the mid-day flight to somewhere else.

Fields: green, stretching out, yawning.
Air: hung with mist, rich with dew
clings to grass, reluctant to leave,
earthbound spirits remain entrapped.

Room: chill and hollow, resonant.
Window: guardian of the October light
falling effortlessly through still air,
sinking softly into dark, musty wood.

Dreaming: cat slinks lazily through fallen leaves.
Waking: the chiming of autumn's grandfather clock,
a distant road roars and hums sweetly,
a hand on the door, not quite open.

It is raining.