Morning

Morning

The glistening drops of dew on the tips of blades of grass

Turning the lawn to a shimmering silvered sea

Where fallen red leaves from a cherry seem stranded

Like boats held fast in the doldrums

Yellowing leaves of the vine are draped across the blue summer house

Now showing those shades of Autumn that follow Summer’s green

The grapes have long gone

Providing a feast for mice that dwell below the shed

The aluminium ladder propped against the wall reflects the morning sun

Drops of last night’s rain still trickle slowly from the roof

Where freshly sealed felt still smells of bitumen

Whilst other droplets are still clinging to the washing line

An apple discarded by the tree lies upon the ground

Half-eaten by some creature passing by

The rose that had not been picked

Swells with the seeds forming beneath

The last of the fuchsias still dangle from the stem

Whilst bees no longer hum above the lavender head

Pink and white geraniums flower in the pots

Standing firm before they eventually yield to winter frost

Mint still rampant awaits a similar fate

Beneath the patio the ants will sleep in the sand

The yellow vetch still stands above the lawn

An orange flower of nasturtium brightens the patch

That nestles beneath the blueberry bush

Where bulbs awake from dormancy below

I peer at the grass

To see the leaves of Puschkinia snowdrops pushing through

Summer sun has faded the colour from the fence

An ever-changing scene

The smell of fresh coffee

Draws me away

I feel good

As I welcome each new day

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022