Sunday afternoon
Through woodland
trees fallen
others rising
most standing
in splendour
The sun on our backs
so we stroll
along dirt paths
bushes heavy
with ripe berries
red and orange
air filled with autumn
and leaves tumbling
a slow swirling cascade
Sunlight and the taunt
of time and the steps
never to be retraced
restless love
never still
moves forward
through the day
sweet repose
comes at night
John Lyons
