November’s poem is brought to you by R.S. Thomas, the austere Welsh priest.
A Day in Autumn
It will not always be like this,
The air windless, a few last
Leaves adding their decoration
To the trees’ shoulders, braiding the cuffs
Of the boughs with gold; a bird preening
In the lawn’s mirror. Having looked up
From the day’s chores, pause a minute.
Let the mind take its photograph
Of the bright scene, something to wear
Against the heart in the long cold.
In case your mind has failed to take its photograph of the bright scene, here are a few I took last Sunday along the Brampton Valley Way. Looks a little like a catalogue for the William Morris Wallpaper Company.