Within the slanting sunlight of a late
Autumnal afternoon leaves russet brown
And washed out green are caught upon the breeze
And in a whispering shower come tumbling down,
Some to be trampled underfoot upon
The path already churned by darkening rain,
Some borne along the winding old canal
To drift towards the steep declining plane,
And as we wander hand in hand I think
How winter very soon will strip the beech
And oak completely bare, and how the warmth
Of spring will lie for months beyond our reach
And how such memories of a tranquil day
Will help to keep the lengthening nights at bay.
The writings of Revd Tim Buckley 