October has a smell,
Damp moss and woody tones.
A stillness in the woods,
Where pigs and ponies roam.
Heavy dewy mornings,
With a nip in the air.
Where spiders spin their webs,
And guard their dew-dropped lair.
On golden sunny days,
Find butterflies on the wing.
The deer are rutting woodlands,
And birds still joyously sing.
Fungi pushes up,
In many a shape and size.
And an acorn on the head,
will always give a surprise.
The trees are slowing down,
And starting to let go.
But before they lose their leaves,
They produce a colourful show.
The chilly drawing nights,
Are a wonder to explore.
Before they turn too cold,
And freeze you to the core.
Solitude and wonder,
Is what October is to me.
Reflecting and celebrating,
The samhain scenery.
A time to express honour,
To our precious land.
And as we walk the woodland,
Ancestors take our hand.
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