The early sun slants low away to the left, it lights up a seeding tree with gold There is breeze today, all the green in motion and early birds eat, drink from the bath, hop into undergrowth the mint is marching nearer I cannot sleep these days - I am getting old and teary here - the copper beech fires red the wind yesterday bore me a message from far away - I felt it, the change, end of summer and winter on its mindnext poem