I walk on brown and brass,

russet and ochre.

With a crunch;

Crisp leaves


Wind blows cool;

Tall trees rustle

and a bristling shower

of leaves:

descend around me:

Golden, floating treasures.

Autumnal splendour

As branches bare all

for winters coming.

Squirrels scuttle,

burying their supplies

in the remnants

Of summer.

Beech nuts and acorns aplenty,

lay scattered

like pebbles.

My feet skip over

spiked conkers:

Some raided,

by children

for games.

Under the layers

of leaf and nut

ground turns moist

and mud:

A squelch and squish.

Brown, red splashes

rise up rubber boots

of Wellington,

And dogs head home

with stained underbellies

and caked paws.

In the shadows of tree

the splendid Fungi family grow.

Mushrooms of varied designs:

White grey caps;

Curved or flattened;


Crimson, orange or pocked.

A feast for the fox;

The all-year rounder

flash of tail;

While other creatures

prepare to rest.

This season of change;

Of letting goes.

Withdrawing, slowing;

Preparing to sleep.

Trees naked to the

harsher weather that comes,

but their scatterings

sheltering the life that still breathes


Dartmoor, Devon

I turn my face to the wind,

Skin wrapped in fleece;

Socks not sandles.

Enjoying the colours

of the autumn hue

and the swirling, falling dance

of leaves,

in this seasonal show.

Again, the gifts of nature,

of our home,

keep giving.

By Maxine Bell @2020

All photos taken by me on my phone on local walks.

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