Autumn Hereabouts
Conkers now have fallen hard, Asphalt's blacker in back yard, Virginities too lightly lost
Have made the losers count the cost, Lost behind young April trees Have forced the losers to their knees. Fruit following that April fun Hangs in a remoter sun.
Paper lies about the track, Fibrositis tweaks the back, Stubble pricks both field and chin, Heads more bald, more sense of sin.
In letters longer to the Times Good men pontificate on crimes They were not tempted to commit : Flogged we were and proud of it.
Observe the children out with nurse, A long box lifted from a hearse, Wasps in colder light defined Suck last sugars from the rind.
Now noble pigments emphasise How life flares before it dies; And in these uneasy days Gardens with fires and dahlias blaze.
GEOFFREY GRIOSON
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