The End Of The Race To Winter Poem by C Richard Miles

What will I write of Autumn? I will write
Of wind that strips the twig and bares the branch
And cleaves from trees the leaves that cleaved on tight
All Summer long. I’ll say how they have lost
The fight to hold their green. But, in my song,
I’ll not forget that prizes have been won
As, medalled gold and bronze, the victors, strong
From sunshine’s warm encouragement, parade
Their bright medallions, then dropp them down,
A carpet, like the palms once welcomed Christ,
To clothe the road for Winter, soft and brown
Who will return the compliment, in turn,
With silver snow and thus complete the three
Positions on the race’s podium.
Gold, silver, bronze – how fitting they agree
To end the year-long seasons’ marathon.