The chill of September mornings remind me summer flew by too soon;
Low in the inky sky hangs the yellow harvest moon.
Mellow early autumn replaces the warmth of sunny June,
But now the summer flowers are gone…
They and their heady perfume.
The land is bathed in the silvery light of la lune.
Now it seems to me, opportune,
To pause a while and stare up at the harvest moon.
The golden autumn leaves will dance to a chillier tune;
Blown by the winds to land wherever they are strewn.
And then winter when it seems to be dark before afternoon.
I gaze at the old apple tree and ponder that it will be wanting a prune;
Then Christmas with decorations festoon,
But for the moment, I laze in the pale gaze of the harvest moon.
You always get into melancholy mode at this time of year LR. Presumably, as someone who makes a living on his motorbike, you are lumbered with the crappy weather to a greater extent than the rest of us. My cycling has now been relegated to the turbo trainer and any weekend rides that I can fit in. I’m working on improving my swimming now instead. This does mean getting up at stupid o’ clock so I can hit the pool at six but the car is warm and cosy after a couple of miles.
You would think so. However, I’ve hated winter since I was a child. I don’t cope well with the cold.
Perversely, melancholy brings out my artistic temperament. This one was a word game.