Brendan Curran with a poem from his expansive body of work.

 
The Autumn Crown

Crisp dry leaves falling down
to a burnished blanket on the ground
The gentle wind shakes them all free
from the loving mother where they want to be

♞♜♝

In the darkness they twirl spiraling down
landing softly with out a sound
A beautiful carpet on the ground
in the harvest moonlight, an autumn crown

♞♜♝

The foggy morning is slow to break
the birds are in no rush to wake
A breezy frost is all around
cracking branches, an eerie sound

♞♜♝

The folded clumps of thick silver grass
a frame for cobwebs that will never last
The hazy sunshine breaks at last
the rusty gate frost thawing fast

♞♜♝

The autumn beauty in view all around
the tracks of snails weave across the ground
The morning sun is now warming fast
its hot breath kissing everything at last

♞♜♝

As the fog begins to loose its grip
thin brown mushrooms become tall and crisp
The afternoon gives a short reprieve 
to the sub zero evening with its stiffening breeze

⏩ Brendan Curran, The Poet Without A Pen.

The Autumn Crown

Brendan Curran with a poem from his expansive body of work.

 
The Autumn Crown

Crisp dry leaves falling down
to a burnished blanket on the ground
The gentle wind shakes them all free
from the loving mother where they want to be

♞♜♝

In the darkness they twirl spiraling down
landing softly with out a sound
A beautiful carpet on the ground
in the harvest moonlight, an autumn crown

♞♜♝

The foggy morning is slow to break
the birds are in no rush to wake
A breezy frost is all around
cracking branches, an eerie sound

♞♜♝

The folded clumps of thick silver grass
a frame for cobwebs that will never last
The hazy sunshine breaks at last
the rusty gate frost thawing fast

♞♜♝

The autumn beauty in view all around
the tracks of snails weave across the ground
The morning sun is now warming fast
its hot breath kissing everything at last

♞♜♝

As the fog begins to loose its grip
thin brown mushrooms become tall and crisp
The afternoon gives a short reprieve 
to the sub zero evening with its stiffening breeze

⏩ Brendan Curran, The Poet Without A Pen.

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