Autumn (thought of on a run in Regent’s Park)

A scattered flurry of orange, auburn and bronze arrest a wandering glance, as lacquered carpet of ephemeral flakes spreads across the grass like spilt honey.

Forests exhale as they cast off their shimmering cloaks to embrace a winter of dwindling white.

Protean castes of leaf bearers mutter with colourful voices, yet the world pauses only to snatch at a fading moment with a thousand grasping lenses.

Each capturing face, unlistening, watches through silver eyes as they share the moment only with themselves.

Each autumn speaks quieter than the last, yet numberless more wait to arrive as hope carves a path for time, meandering along.


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