Juicy Fruits, hanging low

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“The bounty of nature just at reach, as the fall of seasons prepared the feast” Gun Roswell

Juicy Fruits, hanging low

The seasonal harvest started with a single song and dance, up until very midnight to last

A festival of sorts, to celebrate the offerings ready and waiting to be collected, never neglected 

And so, after the party, there will be much work really hard, but if the workers play it smart

They can easily take part in all the daily routines, and then when evening emerges, the fun can continue 

While giving thanks to all that wondrous bounty, making its way to the tables, plentiful like on all the fables 

Definitely all of it well worth the hard work put into the collection of all, fruits, berries even a few vedgies

All of it easily picked and plucked from the fields and trees, as this year they all had had very good luck

And so, as the harvest is being preserved, to the upon coming season of cold and weather blurred

The  people keep going on, picking it all up, having a few bites in between work and life

And especially the juicy fruits hanging low, are the ones being called, as they keep the circular momentum going on

Burning brightly with all kinds of reds

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“The Autumn is the most colorful season a pix snapper could wish for, as nature is positively glowing with brightly hued shades of all reds” Gun Roswell 

Burning brightly with all kinds of reds 

The fall of summer, did not turn out to be a bummer after all, as all the great colours, came out for the ball of a festival, arranged special, to celebrate the turning of season, surely a very good reason to do just that. After all, wouldn’t anyone get a tad bored, of all the green in control, over the whole of the summer, and it seems, they still are trying to hold on, despite the colder weather having a grasp of the nights long at last. But, that does not really matter as the fact of it is, that one without the other won’t exist, but, they cannot do so, all at once. So, in the natural order of things, each of them will have to take turns when they will their arias sing, as the cold blues and whites will own the winter time, the greenish tints starting from spring until summer and when the autumn finally falls, all the fiery best are released as the harvest feasts, turn all of nature to a mild wild fire of reds. And that is the joy of the season of fall.

A brief breather on the country side

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“A trip to the deep of the country side, can easily make you smile and take a deep cleansing breath” Gun Roswell

A brief breather on the country side

When the city air, leaves you in despair, and the need for some freshness is all you can declare, then hop into that van of yours and let it carry along the highway long, until you reach that place, where nobody much stays, but always yearn to one time on the future live in, by the side of the country, wagered things are as they used to be, at least if you believe.

And so, when you get there, take a really long breath of the cool, calming and clean air, let your lungs fill with the stuff, like a puff from the proverbial pipe. And let it inside of you dwell for a long long moment before letting it expel, ever so slowly though, as this air, is no foe, but a friendly reminder from the past, letting you know nothing will last, not long anyway.

So, enjoy the fresh cool calmness for now, and when you are done, and have to leave, just remember to tell the tale to the next person, whom might want to set their sails, the this place where miracles are made, to be shared, with all those seeking them.

Autumn Vibes

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“The crispness in the air and frozen puddles of the mornings, the changing colours of nature, yes, Fall has arrived once again“ Gun Roswell

Autumn Vibes

The harbour quiet and void of people, as the vessels of summer’s fun had been towed into the safety of the solemn docks, anticipating the changing of the seasons, as the cold air landed without too much of a reason, it was simply that time of the year.

The seagulls however did not seem to mind, flying their usual rounds, albeit there were no fishermen, either working or hobbyist returning from their trips, as all their ships, were permanently moored to the docks awaiting the upon coming winter time, when the waters freeze over and the snow starts to fall, after all, this is Autumn time, ie. Fall.

Feeling a tad on the off side as strolling down the piers empty now, the hustle and bustle of summer gone now, the silence descending on the place, at least until one more day of warmth hits the skies, a reminder of the time past, but just that one day of fun, before it will be gone, at least for a few months, when all this will be covered with snow and ice, until next summer.

A Mundane Monday kind of Weather

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“The weather is always at its worst, on Mondays, oh how I don’t like Mondays“ Gun Roswell

A Mundane Monday kind of Weather

The green of the soggy ground, soon another kind of cover found
As the soft white of the snow, today, made its early and neat bow
The Monday kind of grey, soon turned to a ride in an old school sleigh
With odd sounds filling the airs, in the form of some kind of cheers
This day of mundane, was turning out to be, a very special type of day
And maybe, just maybe, that is thanks, to the now growing banks
Of this cold and white powder of substance, all over and everywhere
But not saying this out of despair, even if it really, is not that rare
To have all that snow, all over the floors, at this time of year, so near
To the favourite of all seasons, and that being the most and only reason
Putting up, with all this huff and puff of the white, now making the outside
Picturesque, no less than it was a few moments ago, or even yesterday
When the whole world was covered, in total non fashion kind of grey
So, welcome oh dear snow, hope you will bring so much fun in tow
But remember to melt away, as soon, as the winter’s sun hits play!

Autumn morning in Suburbia

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“It’s too early and way too dark and I cannot see much of anything! So, guess it must be, a November morning!“ Gun Roswell

Autumn morning in Suburbia

Very early, in the morning hours, after, a very quick shower
Looking outside, my window, and here, is what I do know:

It’s the very month of November now, the year gone by, so very fast
I hardly had the time, to really look around, and then it was already past
The moment, and already, the new year soon knocking, at my door
And I had not even bought, any kind of presents, from the store
Because the tradition demanded, that of a celebration, at the turning
Of a new leaf of this so called life, we are supposed to have been living
But, as I turn to take a good look outside, and the similar view I see
Each day, seemingly the same, all year round, except now, it is less green
I know the clock is ticking, and slowly but surely each day, is changing
The view now so familiar to me, but, soon will turn to something completely
Different, and then again, I will be here no more, to watch all the seasons
As they continue their ever lasting rotation, outside this same window
The circle of life some say, and hey, that’s just fine, but then one day
I would really like to stop the time, and take a really good look, anyway

Early autumn morning in Suburbia

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“The sun is not rising, as it will soon be, a polar night ” Gun Roswell

Early autumn morning in Suburbia

Early, before the sunrise, alas today, it wasn’t going to smile
The cloud covered, grey and dark in coloured, low hanging skies
Were preparing, for the upon coming time, that of the polar nights

“But, it was just summer!”
Someone prompted like it was a bummer

“Yeah, and soon we will have snow”
The other piled on quickly in the other ones tow

“Quit yammering about the weather you two,
Because soon, it will be too dark and too cold
To even dare to step out from the home old!”
The third ones comment, surely shut their mouths

But whether the weather, was the topic or not
This time of the year, was always, welcomed with a scoff
As slumbering into darkness, was no way to get off

The difference at this time, between night and day
Was hardly visible, to the beady eyes now slain
By the blurred visions, from too long indoors staying

Only the cloudy and grey skies outside remained
And even those ones, who would like to complain
Had to admit, that it was cozy, inside their own domains

After all, this was a yearly thing in stall
For all those small dwellers, up the far north
Pending their time, before the coming of
Some other type of seasonal weather
But that was a topic, after this time, of fall

Autumn and the nightfall

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“Watching the skies, for what ever up there, might just fly by; birds, dinosaurs, airplanes, ufos, they really are all, quite interesting“ Gun Roswell

Autumn and the nightfall

The skies started, to slowly turn, from a plain and dull grey
With the appearance, of some, quite unexpected lights of rays
As it was such a pleasant surprise, and thus saving, the day

It was after all, close, to the days end, and the night fall
Where the time, for a blink, of an eye of a moment, stalls
And all of us mere mortals down here, standing, ever, so small
Awaiting, for that one spectacle, promised, since early morn’

Good things come to those, who dare to wait in line
And, as keeping on gazing up, into the deep and darkening skies
What do these tired and old vision goggles finally, do spy
But a gorgeous painting, forming, right there, before the very eyes

As the performance of the clouds, lights and stars, high in the skies
Begin their nightly dance, with a slow pace, almost a state of trance
Before all of us small beings, who consider themselves, devoted fans

Is this, truly, the end?

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“Death, is just the beginning, right?” Gun Roswell

Is this, truly, the end?

“This will be the death of me”
The low hanging leaf said, to the other one left
“After all, it’s about time, for me, as it is already fall
And, truly, I can no longer stall
The inevitable circle, which is that of life
No matter how hard, I try to put up a fight”

There was no response to the question
As the last of its companion
Was already floating down towards its destination
Jumping in, without, any kind of hesitation

After a moment of contemplation
Somehow, making the question mute in comparison
Then, slowly, gently, the now colourless leaf
Fell onto the waiting ground, without no one to grief
After all, it was the end, of the season
So hanging on, well, there really was no reason

Posted as a challenge, poetry prompt “Death”

Dark Liquid fell on to the Dark Ground

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“Rain fall, during the Autumn months? Simply so, because of its namesake, the Fall” Gun Roswell

Dark Liquid fell on to the Dark Ground

Still and dark water, lay in perfect silence, on the hardest of grounds
It was there, simply for the one single reason; the dark cloud, let it fall down
Searching, hard, everywhere, and all around, for any kind of lighter shroud
Alas, the all saving light, was no where to be found