November falls mildly this year, and smiles
On afternoon strolls, beckoning boldly
Through grey clouding skies, as mile upon mile
Surrounds us, in stylish profusion, yet bringing
More mellowed finery cocooned under
Ageing, untidy greens. Fashioned now in
Patches of yellowy gorse, which blunders
Pushily through hedgerows of sun-weary
Browns, with praiseworthy splashes of brighter
Than buttercup flowers, they lighten dreary
Old blackberry bushes, now ready for striking
Their own winter pose. Buzzard flies low, scans
Lacy trees, ready naked for Autumn's planned
Passionless sleep. It seems lust for growing
Must be on hold. Miniscule diamonds float
Mistily down, quickly wetting the ground,
So, taking our cue, we leave without sound.

Fay Slimm

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-quiet-autumn/