With thanks and sincere apologies to John Keats (1795 – 1821), an English Romantic poet, who clearly did nothing to deserve that his beautiful words be treated so badly.
Season of mixed and muddled metaphors
Not even sure what you are called
In civilisation we say Autumn
The folk who can’t spell have named you Fall
We think it is pride that comes before you
In the US it is Summertime Blues
Divided by our common language
No harm done, we’re just bemused
Summer here is quite ephemeral
A Tuesday afternoon in June
If sunshine is the God you worship
You’d leave Bonnie Scotland all too soon
We sadly wait for our main season
Which lasts for almost a full year
Cold and wet and dark and icy
That’s why we make whisky you drink beer
The poet asks us quite naively
If winter comes can spring be far behind
He clearly never came to Scotland
His words would have frozen in his mind
Oh Autumn full of coloured beauty
Why do you never tarry long
Two glorious days in mid-September
One gust of wind and you are gone
anelephantcant 
Oer …. ‘The folk who can’t spell have named you Fall’ … hornet’s nest stirring stuff. True or not you are still a cheeky chappy and you know it Mr. Poet . However, ‘One gust of wind and you are gone’ is so sad and so true of many beautiful things in life. Love the pics and the lovely poem.
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Is this Levengrove Park?
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No, Robert, it is Queens Park in the sooth side, mon.
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fabulous photographs! here, in kolkata the weather is divided in two parts summer and monsoon 😦
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I believe autumn is my favorite season, and much too short, no matter where you reside. Great poem 🙂
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The leaves are beginning to fall here in northwest usa. There is a crispness in the air. I’m thinking a smidge of commonality, even a sea apart! Lovely rendition by the way lol, Penny 🙂
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