Autumn

I walk by the river, water dappled with sun
Pondering people and places, things I haven’t yet done
Looking at autumn creeping into the shadows,
Leaves turning golden, berries pregnant on boughs
I scoop up a conker and smile at its perfection
Safe in my pocket, saved from a small boy’s collection
Thoughts obviously still in a 1941 adventure
Small boys today don’t need toys provided by nature
I smile at people walking past, making the most of the weather
It’s the little things in life that cannot be bettered
Make the most of this time, and try to forget that it’s sand
So precious and precarious in the palm of our hand.