An English Quintain for the dverse prompt. I enjoyed this one.
The alder and the poplar tree
Are stripped of leaf and bare of bough,
Beneath, through rustling autumn gold we
Walk the quiet ways that now
Are dark as sun slips over evening’s brow.
Hand in hand we make our way
Along the stream where owls are crying
Farewell to the end of this cold day
That carries in the north wind sighing
The last flames of red autumn dying.
Beneath the trees along the stream
We walk, I hold your hand in mine
Where golden tribute paves a cherished dream,
Woven through with briar and with vine
Our place, as rich as honey-sweetened wine.