In this pleasant rural setting

Autumn crackles in log fires of

Ancient cottages

And the sweet wind of quiet decay

Fills my nostrils with

A heady yearning for something

I can’t specifically state beyond

My imaginative grasp;

I see

Orange leaves sprinkled across lanes

For feet to reassuringly tread under

A deep blue afternoon sky like ocean

Threatening to darken with the wave of winter

But, presently, it waits, holds back

Like an archer straining at his bow

I cling to autumn stillness and stretch the moment

Over damp hills and past thinning trees

My mind simultaneously full and empty

My heart light but wary

As a chilly breeze whispers