Summer's End

The trees turn early in the late summer sun,
Yellow and gold against a soft cerulean sky,
The sun goddess bursting through the leaves
Birch bark shining white at her touch.

A path descends from the prehistoric beach,
Loose pebbles crunch and shift underfoot,
Dislodged from the soft white sand,
To rattle down the rain chiselled gully,
Cascading over tree roots, sinking back to rest.
To either side the banks are crowned with heather,
Clumps of wispy grass and ancient ferns.

As the sand and pebbles give way to earth,
The foliage darkens to green
And the path leads into a holly thicket,
Dark and close, as an uncomfortable druidic secret.
The sun dips behind the ridge and we enter into the conspiracy.
Suddenly chill and half robbed of sight,
We turn back and ascend towards the light.

But here too the sun is slipping away,
The time is gone and our own walls beckon.