Wild Autmn Woods Poem by Anthony Dover

Leave the leaves,
And come and look at this.
A frond of a friend,
Beware of the exploding gorse,
But wallow with the willow,
Stick to the path,
Don't touch the sticky grass,
Nettled good for soup,
I see love's trumpet ahead,
And the silver birch,
Hastening to church,
The bramble is insecure, clinging to the past,
Whilst the mushroom,
Makes way for the vole.
Cacophany of autumn colours,
Make methink of her hair,
And we blend emotions,
To suit the situation,
We can't lose while we are together,
Inclement weather,
Mind the heather,
Pick up an acorn,
And have no more scorn,
I'm the one for you,
Persephone who?