Autumn on the Clock Lawn

Now Summer has abdicated responsibility
For the late season and Autumn roars
Through the park trees
Like the dragon that it is.
Few leaves succumb to its raging breath
But the loud crackling in the sun-dried canopy
Announces the end of summer's short reign.
A scattering of brown foliage
Over the clock lawn between the croquet balls
Belies any hopes of a longer Indian Summer.

This year the turning of the season
Feels welcome enough.
I am coasting down a long gradient
To the end of time.
An easy descent, like cycling
From Hedley on the Hill
To Wylam Village, deep in the Tyne Valley.
At the bottom is the gliding river,
Tree lined banks,
Deep pools
And a heedless rush
Over the weir beneath Wylam's rickety bridge.
From Corbridge to Ovingham to Wylam
Damp ashes of a life
Slowly settle
To become part of Quarternary sediments
After the Great Flood.