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?

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