Autumn Morning at Bucklawren by Nick Wotton

It is mid-October

The sea framed in low cloud

Crashing against the Cornish coast

Outside the wind shouts loud

 

Daytime struggles to free itself

From the shackles of the night

Through the mist and murk this morn

No sun is shining bright

 

But over the fields that reach down to the shore

Organically dressed up to the hilt

Tired brown leaves on the swaying trees

With this season start to wilt

 

The crows erratically flying high and then low

As they fail to conquer the winds fierce blow

Through the valley the day starts to slowly arrive

The lights of the town centre glow

 

As my eyes scan this view of the dancing sea

From my window at Bucklawren Farm

I am reminded so well as the cold wind blows

Of the season’s unique autumn charm