It is Autumn here, or Fall, and let me not get into how and why the season has different names in different countries. There’s history for you. But, walking home yesterday evening, with the trees lining the road all covered in gold, red and brown leaves that glittered in the street lights, I suddenly understood the preference for the word “Fall”: a gust of wind blew, and like a sheet of raindrops, the leaves on the entire row of trees simultaneously fluttered to the ground. I stood there for a few minutes, just watching the leaves dropping.
I was grateful for the rain, the leaves, the cool wind, and the early evening darkness. I was grateful that Fall had arrived, and that Summer was over, and that the heat, smoke, and blinding brightness had gone away.
I was grateful when I woke up this morning, and it had been raining, and the world was lovely and cool. So I wrote a poem about it.
AN AUTUMN MORNING
It’s an Autumn morning.
The breeze brushes with chill traces.
In the garden, birds sing,
and hop from their hiding places.
Fall leaves are gold bowers
with misty ribbons ’round the trees.
Damp from last night’s showers,
lavender shrubs are ringed with bees.
After the heat, again
the garden sighs, waking from sleep;
“Come out, and smell the rain,
and feel the wet grass on your feet.”
This poem consists of three four-line stanzas, with an alternative rhyme scheme, in other words ABAB / CDCD / EFEF. The lines alternate between 6 syllables and 8 syllables. So, a simple and common style. I guess after months of writing very academic, difficult lyrics, all I could come up with is this. But at least I still want to write poems.
Brian Bilston’s poem about Fall
Brian Bilston writes such witty poems. Here is one of his, clever in words and in form, called “Fall”:
SEVEN CIRCUMSTANCES 
It is Autumn here, or Fall, and let me not get into how and why the season has different names in different countries. There’s history for you. But, walking home yesterday evening, with the trees lining the road all covered in gold, red and brown leaves that glittered in the street lights, I suddenly understood the preference for the word “Fall”: a gust of wind blew, and like a sheet of raindrops, the leaves on the entire row of trees simultaneously fluttered to the ground. I stood there for a few minutes, just watching the leaves dropping.
I was grateful for the rain, the leaves, the cool wind, and the early evening darkness. I was grateful that Fall had arrived, and that Summer was over, and that the heat, smoke, and blinding brightness had gone away.
I was grateful when I woke up this morning, and it had been raining, and the world was lovely and cool. So I wrote a poem about it.
AN AUTUMN MORNING
It’s an Autumn morning.
The breeze brushes with chill traces.
In the garden, birds sing,
and hop from their hiding places.
Fall leaves are gold bowers
with misty ribbons ’round the trees.
Damp from last night’s showers,
lavender shrubs are ringed with bees.
After the heat, again
the garden sighs, waking from sleep;
“Come out, and smell the rain,
and feel the wet grass on your feet.”
This poem consists of three four-line stanzas, with an alternative rhyme scheme, in other words ABAB / CDCD / EFEF. The lines alternate between 6 syllables and 8 syllables. So, a simple and common style. I guess after months of writing very academic, difficult lyrics, all I could come up with is this. But at least I still want to write poems.
Brian Bilston’s poem about Fall
Brian Bilston writes such witty poems. Here is one of his, clever in words and in form, called “Fall”:
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