Just wrote this in a letter to my tutor, didn't think he'd mind me sharing...
The Earth in mid out-breath relaxes into a doze.
The life blood drains freely from trunk and stem,
In a glorious burst of colourful defiance.
Sighing like a lover returning to a warm bed,
The wind strips back the trees' golden blanket
To form a carpet for yesterday's memories.
Dying a little, the oak stands naked again,
Welcoming ancestors with reaching boughs.
To completion in the cool, damp soil.
Leaves lie rotting like grief in the ground,
Mourning the passing of the radiant Sun,
Its promise of a return now forgotten.
But there's magic afoot in the seeds in in the mud
Lying dormant, but gathering strength.
A part of the circle called life.