Its early days yet (December) an observational piece

The sun has got his hat on
and he’s shining in my face
looking at him
really, my eyes
know that this space
cannot be shared
for his huge smile
blinds me
I can’t see
the forest or
the undergrowth
or the tree in front of me.

above the clouds are rolling
across a sky of blue
the trees are bobbing back and forth
the odd leaf what to do
clinging on for dear life
the majority have flown
its funny how always a few
are able to atone
and somehow grasp the metal
and, remain forthright
on form
a bit like human beings
a’sailing in a storm

greens of every hue abound
the Jasmine’s lighter vein
the Rosemary much darker
the Cherry none dare claim
its leaves are brown and withered
the wet fermented look
the bracken and the holly
have clearly shook and shook
not many berries left alas
for wreaths or Christmas pud
but everywhere the sunbeams fall
the soil looks pretty good
tousled heads of Allium
and Lemon balm so dry
seed heads rolling whilst
unlocking seeds
that now might fly
into the weeded tangle
where wildness overflows
to the rich and humid litter
where all and sundry grows