Canterbury City Centre Parish

A Carpet of red and gold is laid

Under the trees in the glade.

The foraging boys see

Under the horse chestnut tree

Many conkers and the squirrel finds more

Nuts for his winter store.

(Win Speight)

Autumn.

Unforgettable colours.

Thanksgiving for Harvest.

Unable to survive extremes.

Migratory birds gather to depart.

Northerly winds banks up fallen leaves.

(Ann Whittlesea)

As the fields turn golden and

Upon the ground the leaves fall

The crops are safely gathered

Used to feed us all.

May the Lord bless us and keep us.

Now we give thanks for the Harvest.

(Pat Reed)

Autumn: and Almighty God whose hand holds every season,

Un-numbered are the miracles you do.

Teach us not to take all things for granted.

Use us to show our love for you,

Making our lives into your harvest,

Needing you always, whatever we do.

(Viv Woods)

Apples - golden corn, berries red on bushes,

Utterances of migrating birds.

The Harvest Festival - such artistic touches.

Unforgettable morning skies - shades of pink and blue.

Mother Nature dons her richest gown,

Notates joyfully - her symphony of every hue.

(Viv Woods)

Autumn's arrival is almost imperceptible.

Until, first, the hours of daylight shorten.

Then the trees turn, gold, red and finally brown.

Ultimately, we turn the clock back and enjoy an extra hour in bed.

Migrating geese wake us as they noisily fly off to sunnier climes.

Now, November is upon us and with it , winter.

(Grahame Whittlesea)

Ode to (the) Autumn (Collection)

I wandered Whitefriars like a leaf that rolls in kerbs, gets stuck in grills
When suddenly I found relief from autumn’s gusty wind that chills.
Yes, Fenwick’s windows came to pass beside the road, behind the glass.
I viewed at once, not my reflection but Whistles’ Autumn clothes Collection.
They stretched in rusty browns and gentian, dresses craving my attention.
I saunter past the bracelets, pearls; ignore for once the Clarins girls.
To spend or save, now which is greater? Ponder on the escalator.
Then L.K. Bennett, Phase Eight too? But Whistles frocks came in to view
Oh! thousands saw I at a glance. What me hold back? No, I advance.
And scorning Sandwich, Millen, Coast, grab the outfits I love most.
For oft when in the fitting room, I find I banish Autumn’s gloom.
I revel in my Whistles frocks and chill October? …Now it ROCKS!

P.S. Were he alive, I’d choose his sweater. Wordsworth does this so much better!

(Tessa Taylor)

WRONG END OF THE STICK!
We  often mistake, truth to Tell
The  Real meaning of what He says.
Those words Of wisdom Each can spell
             Some other   Name, Some altered phrase.
   We often       Take  Great pains to find
The truth In human Earthly ways,
But, Come what may, we do Not mind
Knowledge God gives to bless our Days.

(Marie Cowell)

Acorns, with pixie caps, fall from the oak,
Uncle Reynard, the fox, hunts in the dark,
The crops are gathered by glad country folk,
Under the trees, leaves carpet all the park,
Many a golden pumpkin can be seen
Now Autumn’s here, prepare for Hallowe’en! .

(Marie Cowell)

Autumn, when leaves change colour, brown & gold,
Under the hedge the dormouse makes a nest,
The conkers from the trees have dropped & rolled,
Up on the fence, a bright robin redbreast
Makes music. Stored before the bitter cold,
Nuts for the squirrels, food for Winter’s rest.

(Marie Cowell)

Asters, chrysanthemums & dahlias glow
Under the Altar rail at Harvest time.
The loaves are made like corn sheaves, just to show
Us the Lord’s Blessing. As the church bells chime,
May we give thanks for Autumn’s golden store,
Now, through the Winter, till Spring comes once more.

(Marie Cowell)