Season end
the morning
scents of
crisp cold
days to
come.
Apples ripe
now summer’s
just a dream;
sun drenched
scenes,
supper under
August moon
wine & song;
back then
it seemed
that laughter’d
never end.
Here
cherry tree
has lost
her glow,
clouds
roll in:
for you
& me
another year
plucks with
unknown
fingers
whispers
‘sleep’
autumn mist
& memories.
Victoria Mosley 
Beautiful. Still a month away from feeling Autumn’s arrival here…104 today. Am reminded of Verlaine’s poem:
Les sanglots longs Des violons De l’automne Blessent mon cœur D’une langueur Monotone. Tout suffocant Et blême, quand Sonne l’heure, Je me souviens Des jours anciens Et je pleure; Et je m’en vais Au vent mauvais Qui m’emporte Deçà, delà, Pareil à la Feuille morte.
>
Thank you………yes France had the scent of autumn last week.
Big love to you all .Vx