Light beckons as the path winds round to greet the lowering Sun;

Illuminating ragged trees losing their leaves, their work now done;

Soft padded steps, the rustle of fallen debris scattered underfoot;

Breathing in the cool, clean air as I slowly approach the wood.

The path widens, its edge dipping down to the river;

Ancient roots line trenches filled with leaf litter;

Sunlight shines through crowns of leaves like golden glitter;

Birds sing as the water glides in waves that shimmer.

I find a place to sit on the bank, warmed by the Sun, unspoiled;

I feel the ground beneath me, hands splayed out on the soil;

I listen and relax to the gentle sounds of the river’s flow;

I feel Mother Nature's heart, allowing her to bring me home.

Admiring the leaves, playing their part in life on Earth;

Cleaning the air, feeding trees in cycles of death and birth;

Giving us shade, making every season the joy it is to see;

Foliage as beautiful now as ever it was or will be.

A splendour of treedom, resplendent and free;

Handsome Beech Tree, full of life-giving energy;

I know you were here, living, long, long before me;

Tell me your tales of wisdom, show me the way to be.

Ancient trees, so much more than trunks and leaves;

Roots travelling deep to the depths of the Earth beneath;

Breaking free above ground where they twist and turn;

Weaving a trellis of woodwork along the water's edge.

I leaned back on the bank where I was sitting;

Tilting my head to enjoy the golden leaves above me, smitten;

Mesmerised by the light, the colours, a beautiful, brilliant, heaven;

Such moments in Nature touch my heart and soul, no question.

Beech leaves, thin as paper, in all shades of brown;

Splayed out like fans on branches layering down;

Creating canopies, filtering a dappled light;

Casting shadows on the bark and flashes of white. 

Beech trees live through centuries of time;

Gnarled and knotted habitats for so many a wild thing;

Here, hole-nesting birds and wood-boring insects can be found;

Its trunk, home to fungi, mosses, lichens and wildflowers.

I wonder at the beauty of this time of year;

As Nature fades in a blaze of fanfare and cheer;

Gifts of colour enrich the eyes, made crystal clear;

In the golden yellows, rusts and reds, we all hold dear.

Sue Cartwright

Spiral Leaf