AUTUMN GOLD Where nature's autumn roads across the landscape makes her wield, 'Tis there I seek to find the magic of poetry in hedgerow, hill and field. Oh! how I love to walk the stubbly fields of gathered corn, While passing heels, a music box of stubbly sounds ring out to an autumn's dew cast dawn. Then when oft in my chair I repose to dream, Of where lumbering mountains to open skies gleam. While down the rushing slopes sentries of spruce, row on row stand, As thinning leaves of autumn, wind shaken, rustle across the land. Then when the day is tired and growing old, And the fading day stains the Earth in autumn gold; Oh! how I love to cast my eyes to where the heaving hills scrape a lowering sky, And in a dusk hewn fading light, dark rooks to their roost hasten by. HIGH PEAKS I enter its silence and breathe in its tranquility; They have stood the ravages of time, These purple headed peaks that carve their silence to the sky; These grey stone walls raised up like alters in praise of God. Here the centuries pass marked by virgin snows. God created these moors with their wild openness, These peaks that lie bleak to their belonging. This land tended by stubborn men, Wresting a livelihood from the harshness of its unyielding. There are those that endeavour- Those whose shadow pass fleetingly the rocky outcrops that have stood a million years. RIVER EYE There's many a drunken willow along the bendy river Eye, And old worldly cottages on the narrow twisting lanes nearby. And as she meanders through green pastures with their preety coppice nooks, Along this river there are coot, moorhen, swans and mallard ducks.                                                                                                                    River Eye by Swing Bridge                                                           Swithland Woods Leicestershire All poems and graphics are copyright to the author Peter Morriss