Poets’ Corner: Cricket’s Call


Sweet crisp smells of Autumn

And daylight time is lost

The salty air fills up the senses

The ground is covered with frost.

The sky is like the falling leaves

Burnt bright and sunset waxes

The cricket’s final call has come

As Mother Nature relaxes.

She waits to pull her blanket up

Over those to sleep

For in her Winter haven lies

A measure of comfort to keep

A spark of life held for the birth

Of yet another season

A hope of life as yet to come

Thus gives us all a reason.

Better or worse, sickness or health

In pain or perhaps in pleasure

Some look not close enough to see

It is but ours to treasure.

Tom Wetherall resides in West Tisbury where he wordsmiths and multi-tasks as a professional property manager.