October Morning

On the trees’ periphery
the rooks caw. Cold day
clears slowly, the mist

is lifting. The wood’s floor
is littered with brown:
rotting leaves, last night’s

broken branches, one
dead birch fell right across
the path. Another hour

will see the sun lie
flat on the hard, yellow
maize stubble – autumn’s

most satisfying sight:
a bright illusion of gold
through the dark trees.