Arts and Culture


Autumn, you treacherous beauty
You murmur sweet promises
Of piercing sunlight and gentle drizzles
In an eternity of late afternoons
Of bountiful harvests and family feasts
With honey and sweetmeats and wine and spice
Of a masterpiece, a colour explosion
As flowers fade, the silent leaves bloom

Rich. And deep. And luscious.

Summer’s not left and you’ve stolen her spotlight
The monsoons arrive while the leaves are yet green
Daylight truncated by cloud-covered evenings
By night, your fangs of ice sink into sunburnt skin
No scenes of lovers strolling through leaf-strewn paths
No comfort shared by the hearth over brandy and fire
No smoke from the chimneys but our skies are now grey
No, Autumn, begone. You owe us one last summer day.


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