Autumn At Dogmersfield, Hampshire Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

On my bike I gatecrashed
a rush of trees, quietly
gold-leaved, stately
and with a still solemnity
my arrival announced
by a hooting owl
there was such a blush
you had no idea that these
dark veined branches
were soon to lose their charges
impatient and clicking
soon to carpet this woodland floor
and mask stealthy footfall
of winter's prowl

It was a parade, as such
with military decorum
this blazing infantry
in splendid silence-
no surging rabble this-
one by one, summoned to fall
by high voiced twittering
sparrow call

And inbetween this
shimmer and sheen
a russet fox appears
serious as a sergeant major
and I swear he said
well, what are you doing here?
a blink and he is gone
and then I realise
that in his stiff red fur
he is at one
with what is going on

My handlebars are twisted
into a silver question mark;
is this one of those special years
where autumn brings a blaze
like a good year for the vine
or is it that I'm seeing it
for the first and last time?

I made a note the other day
to watch at night a meteor shower-
none came, and a meeting
of Venus, Jupiter and Mars
was spoiled by the rain,
but as I leave the known road
the way bark leaves a whittled stick,
it's got closer this vault of stars
and lives in every arching bower