Saturday, 15 November 2008

Gutters lined with gold

It seems to be only the yellows, the golds, that are left. The crumpled browns, burnt crisp oranges, the still slightly waxy green, the rare shining reds, have all been blown away. Colours are fading fast, but this ordinary street is made into shimmering glory by the leaves. 

I watched the other day, as the gale threw branches back on themselves, how the leaves clung on. Today, in their own time, in the still moments of this grey morning, they rain down. 

Coming home from buying the weekend paper, I caught sight of Nature's handy work at the chores. Sorting, sticking, sweeping, tidying. The gutters were lined with gold.