Cotswold Way
We drive through the valley;
the toffee apple trees
struggle to hold their leaves -
but not our gazes.
I turn my head,
see Sudeley Castle below.
I know it well,
but not like this:
dressed in gold.
We stop, devour the scene:
the valley rusted as an old tin watering can.
Has nature for our pleasure
opened her green shutters
to show us Autumn
letting down her hair?
the toffee apple trees
struggle to hold their leaves -
but not our gazes.
I turn my head,
see Sudeley Castle below.
I know it well,
but not like this:
dressed in gold.
We stop, devour the scene:
the valley rusted as an old tin watering can.
Has nature for our pleasure
opened her green shutters
to show us Autumn
letting down her hair?