All along the verges grasses glow tufts unruly, blazing in orange and yellow golden gilt on such a day the world's caught fire as Autumn with her palette strides scarlet, amber, gold and splash and spray and daub and drip the colours flung till trees and bushes, vines in fields and all the landscape zings.
Autumn's an artist, red-haired, ripe drunk on the day's bright beauty lovely and lush drip of the brush now all of the world's on fire.
Like an egg waiting, secret in its nest or a seed un-sprung, a pearl glowing between the oyster shells so the posted poems hidden treasure in the Moleskines pocket size, within the box, after box all over Exmoor as walkers passed paused and looked and thought chewing the pencil's end some to rhyme with simple schemes some to fly more free then left behind their verse, a memory of cloud and sky of rock and moor, that day stoppered in a bottle, the perfume of that day perfectly in miniature an egg, a seed, a pearl
7th November 2016, Hounoux
(ref the Poetry Box project, when over a three year period many boxes were placed all over Exmoor containing notebooks in which passers by might draw or write a poem.)
