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.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
Lovely photo and words💜
Thanks Willow 🙂 The blackberries and grapes are all finished now. The last figs are still ripening but it’s getting to look very autumnal now.
Yes and no doubt feeling it too 💜
In the mornings it is. Lots of mist coming up from the river now, but the afternoons are still warm. We’ve had an exceptional autumn so far.
We have really but the winter’s is creeping in 💜
Every day…
Yes 🍂🍁🌬️
Luscious-gemmed is perfect. The birds still seem very noisy here.
What is this form, or is it one you made up?
It’s one from dverse, a trimeric. It’s an easy one 🙂
Oh, OK. I thought it probably was a form. I’m terrible at remembering them. 😀
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.
Yes, and there are some I probably never have tried.
They’re not all worth it though.
Perhaps not. Some I just don’t have time to do–I can’t write and respond to three prompts most weeks.
Time is usually better spent just writing. Comments are often over the top and rarely helpful.
Should have said, thank you 🙂 The birds in the trees are noisy but in the hedge when they’re after berries, they tend to keep quiet.
That makes sense. It’s hard to sing with your mouth full!😀. And you’re welcome!
🙂
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)
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…