The autumn leaves tremble
like an old man’s hands,
browned and veined.
For now the crop lies on the ground,
hostage to earth and time,
and the colours of yellow and red
have dripped out of the tree
as bright berries.
Julian O’Dea
3 May
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Julian O'Dea 
Posted by fuzziewuzziebear on May 3, 2018 at 6:07 am
Berries!!! Thank you. All those images are making me sleepy.
Posted by Roman Lance on May 3, 2018 at 12:21 pm
Since all poetry contains within it the author’s intended meaning as well as a call to each man’s search for meaning let met try an alternative meaning separate from it’s autumnal plea.
This seems to me it could also be a reference to a well established culture that has reached it limit and is struggling to stay rooted in it’s established essence. Where the old guard has given way to time and tide yet has left behind some, even if just a little, hope for the future.
Posted by Amfortas on May 9, 2018 at 4:12 am
Nice one Julian. Captures it all so well.