Often taken for granted

Mid way through October
And often what we take
For granted are the leaves
Thats rustle and that shake
The veracity of Nature
A compendium so clear
Colours changing everywhere
From bloodlessness to cheer

Flush and blush and glow and hue
Tint and shade and dye
Intense and deep and unfaded
Exciting the poets eye
Delicate discreet and flaunting
Vivid brilliant gay
A kind of neutral hoary sky
Of grizzled charcoal grey

A cherry spurting dryness
Coppery cinnamon curls
Alongside withered greenery
And Soft enticing twirls
The Copper Beech is thinning
Lacey puffs of brown
Shimmering as the light evolves
And more come tumbling down

The jasmine grassy mossy
A myriad of green
The verdure turns to mustard
Where stragglers now lean
Clutching at the dew drops
Wearing wintry pearls
Leaves are clothed and beautiful
As Each little flag unfurls

The Rosemary a protector
Its greenwood is supreme
A friendly clutching hugging soul
Its energy doth team
Up and create a maze
Of spiralling chartreuse
The odd flower kissed with lilac
Just suddenly occurs

The fuschia wirey willing
Its ballerina’s dancing
Creating and god willing
Dew drops decorating
As It seemingly achieves
What we take for granted
All the pretty leaves