Taking a poetry break. A terzanelle, though it preferred iambic tetrametre to pentametre
In this falling time of the year,
With golden leaves and berries red,
The rain and fog is grey and drear.
Beneath my tread the brown and dead
Of leaf fall, nut husk, seed pod strewn
With golden leaves and berries red.
The house sits silent, grey stone hewn,
Amid a rolling dewy sea
Of leaf fall, nut husk, seed pod strewn.
Falling rain and flailing tree,
In autumn gales we’re cast adrift,
Amid a rolling, dewy sea.
The sky is wild, clouds fly as swift
As white-sailed ships that catch the tide—
In autumn gales we’re cast adrift.
The bare-branched trees, leaves scattered wide
Are wreathed in fog so grey and drear,
Yet white-sailed ships still catch the tide,
In this falling time of the year.