Hedge in autumn

Hedge in autumn

The hedge was dense and green through summer,
and at the end hung with red and black,
luscious gemmed and fluttering with wings
when soft-voiced birds flit, feasting.

And at the end, hung with red and black,
the sumptuous banners of a forgotten king,
blackberried and spiked, autumn builds its ramparts,

luscious-gemmed and fluttering with wings.
Turning vines drape purple grapes in gold leaf,
hand-prints across the green of oak and elm.

When soft-voiced birds flit, feasting
on hips and haws and plump purple,
I know the winter king will soon be holding court.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

20 thoughts on “Hedge in autumn”

      1. Occasionally I look back on my blog at challenges and realise there are dozens of forms I liked at one time and have never written since. The trimeric will probably end up with those whose names I forget.

  1. We used to cross the railroad tracks and pick the blackberries there–they always remind me of summer’s end. I don’t remember the birds–the wings I was following then were butterflies.
    I love the golden handprints. (K)

    1. Abandonned lines were always great places for brambles. I hear a lot of birds in the hedge when I’m picking berries, though they’re trying to be quiet. They don’t like people and don’t like to draw attention to themselves, but they love berries…

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