Walking the Hedge

A Fall Rite Poem

Crisp and cool is the deeping night

Yet still soft and sweet is the morning dew

Blood red berries drip from old green yew

Chilly winds blowing in a sky still bright

Red and yellow and bronze and brown

Fields and forests are no longer greening

The land prepares for it’s great sleeping

Sleepy trees wait for last leaf to fall down

The good earth bursts with fruit and life

Shining apples, heavy vines and golden corn

The last birds sing farewell to a frosty morn

With ritual and rite, shovel, sickle and knife

I play my part in the great wheel of life

~ Juniper 2001

Related posts:

1. Leaves Fall …
2. Silly Father’s Day Poem (full of in-jokes)
3. First Snow 2009