Autumn

I passed by her again today,

the tree that winked at me in spring,

covered in blossom,

and inspired me to write Her Arrival.

A few months have passed

and she is changing.

I stopped, as I did then,

and rested my face against her bark.

This time, little drops of resin

were resting on her skin.

I wondered if they were a gift

for the harvest season,

or perhaps her tears

for the summer that has gone.

Her leaves are beginning to turn,

green slowly giving way

to the warm colours of autumn.

Soon they will fall,

carried away by the wind,

and her branches will be bare.

But that is still to come.

Today she is dressed in autumn,

wearing this season as her own,

and I find myself looking at her

with the same tenderness

I felt when I found her in spring.

She is changing,

as everything living does,

and there is something about her

that makes me want to stay.

So I rest my cheek against her bark

for another little while,

and perhaps I imagine it,

but I can almost hear her whisper:

Don’t mourn summer yet.

Look at me now.

Love,

Rosie x