The heat and light’s on. Tonight clocks go back
The autumn’s in its later phase. Can’t hide
From the wind if you’re a leaf. Odds are stacked
Against those at the ends of branches. Plucked
By strong gusts, they sail onwards in the gale
To find their final resting place, they’re tucked
Against a wall, a tree trunk, they prevail
For a few days, beautiful red and pale
Yellow. For a week or two they abide
Then break down into mush under heel’s clack
Or organic decay on grassy vale
Meanwhile I’m safe and warm, not stuck outside
Might watch a film, energy has gone slack
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