An English Forest In Fall

Went down to the forest one Autumn day,
Hours spent, watching squirrels at play.
Others seen scurrying around,
Such haste, gathering nuts from the ground.
Beady eyes urgently scan for more,
To take back to their precious store.

See how the forest proceeds to wind down,
Trees release their leaves, all around.
Floating quietly to the ground,
Bold colours of yellow, red and brown.
There to remain, no further sound.
At length, devoured, by the ground.

Silver Birch, its trunk peeling away,
Stands dormant awaiting warmer days.
Sturdy Pines, towering tall and lean,
With needles still predominantly green.
Rowan, with its berries full and red,
Ensuring birds are kept well fed.

Copper Beech, suductive you are.
Leaves of bronze on branches,
Spreading wildly out afar.
Unlike the other just as keen,
A rich complimentary green.
Mighty Oak, you stand supreme,
Lord of the forest, noble, serene.

Breda Ware