… the ground is already soaked from the overnight rain.
The day that was yesterday, pushed away from the incoming clouds.
The trees looking forlorn, in their autumnal colours, shake in the stiff breeze. Sea mists lie heavy, on the coast.
The grey that is morning, this morning, creeps in; through the door frame. Faint yellow golds, tinge the pallor. Scurrying to work jobs, heads bent down against the drizzles. The people come and go.
Cars, wait patiently for attention, on the forecourt. Smug in their paint and glass, Waiting to burst into mechanical life. The birds nowhere to be seen. Left? Only the winter flocks, of carrion persuasion, behind.
The rains bring renewed life, subsiding in the soils below. Ready to burst anew. When, spring warming, sun rays summon them forth. Trickles and trills. beneath dense close foliage. Copped to receive the ancient elixir.
Beneath ant colonies die off, spiders scurry to lay in against the colder weather to come. Eggs sacs full. Slow moving, for winter bites at the legs. The layer beneath, as busy as the one above.
When the rains come and autumn beckons to beyond. The globe tilts. To expose it’s other hemisphere, toward our star. The geese gather in for the season. All is well in our world …