obscuring the distant Quantock hills.
A robin perches on the branch
of a silver birch where only
a few leaves desperately cling,
survivors of autumnal storms.
But now it is beautiful:
my breath like the mist itself
floating into the deep blue ether,
the wind has grown silent.
It is a time to relish existence
as morning dew shines like stars.
These rare dry days in the midst of the Fall
are truly the loveliest of all.