Golden Coronets Poem by Paul Reed

The skies with golden coronets are surmounted
Which have sent fleeting summer on it's way,
Instead secret paths through woods to be counted
Soft needles masking the mud and clay;

The transient days of heat now used goods
Swirling leaves form shifting welter,
Cloudbursts and umbrellas and hoods
Running under the trees to find shelter;

The lingerers on the beach are grievers
Their memories can no longer be bought,
Gone, the heat hazes and dry fevers
An irresistible freshness holds court;

Summer has held it's sale
Of bewitching times the vendor,
The hanging flags turn bloody and pale
This is autumn in all it's spendour