​here we are again
wintering,
we delight in the green of our garden,
cabbages and snow pea shoots, 
bulbs emerging, 
how quickly the body 
changes with the season -
craves warm cups of tea
and sunshine on the cheek,
hopes for clothes to dry on the line,
clear noses, more sleep -
as farm life begins to slow,
we are so very ready to unplug,
unwind, stretch those tired muscles,
help a back heal, ask big questions
about ourselves, our future, dreams -
we lie awake at night
for the unknowns,
for the night feeds,
we rise in the morning
our breath made visible in the crisp air
the kettle boils slowly, the porridge slower still -
and sometimes the pasture is covered in sparkling frost
and sometimes when we drive to school the fog is so thick
we can barely see ahead, then pulling up by the playground
we hear children running around laughing,
for the novelty of the thing - 
this season,
and it's only just beginning.

​I am disarmed by the beauty of spring,
in our friends' garden 
there is too much to gaze lovingly at 
or smell sweetly or soak newness in -
blossoming trees, bulbs, bush and thicket,
and everywhere the bees! 

I dig away at garden beds
I planted out months ago
in faith - before we left
that I would return for a harvest
and in the meantime my friends would see 
something growing where the ground had been dry,

it's hard work breaking the clay,
pulling up overgrown radishes
and strangled beetroot seedlings,
on my knees I grab handfuls of weeds 
and grasses nudging up around healthy
cabbages, fennel bulbs, kale, celery -
I am filled with glee at the thin garlic tendrils I spy, 
I imagine a bountiful purple clove harvest 
(but am prepared for nothing special)

then, I find treasures -
in amongst the leaves are broccoli heads 
mauve purple and lime green;
the colours only heirloom seeds can bring,
in between clusters of grass
are tiny strawberry plants 
planted seasons ago -

I water and listen
my small companion chicken chasing
or watering can dancing
above me the sway and shhh of grey gums 
whispering,

this is spring

​you,
autumn
have been so very mild this year
so unusually warm in clime
and yet for us - you are still 
the crunch of leaves
the shortening days,
the leaving one place
and returning to another
a child clutching a quiet bird
a man dreaming for the future
a woman growing older, 
hair longer, feet worn
leaf meal, egg dyed.
your ruby pomegranates,
quince and sugar plums
from the tree -
what was wonderful,
trying, thoughtful -
 what will be
road, hill, city, breeze,
you are autumn to me.