The crisp air splashes like a cold face wash in the morning
While a bronze pheasant picks through dewy mounds of meadow
and Harry the brazen cat mews incessantly at me.
Rusted brown grasses spray fountains of tired gold
among isolated lemon yellow, purple and pink.
Bird song sails, bobbing above a quarry rumble
A goldfinch plucks fluff from a faltering thistle
and others feast among hawthorn berries and a bank of blackberries
3 nuthatches, tits, a tiny gold crest
and a dull olive green bird with a butterfly flash of yellow banded wings
maybe a siskin.
The garden is empty
While the wild bustles beyond the wall
Preparing for the oncoming cold