Autumn in Edale: A Poem

Autumn

In Edale's autumn, the hills ignite,

Flame-lipped and amber-kissed,

Where the wild wind, a mischievous sprite,

Whispers secrets through the mist.

Ochre leaves, like burnished gold,

Tumble from ancient oaken arms,

The valley, a tapestry, unfolding bold,

In autumn's soft, bewitching charms.

Kinder Scout, a brooding king,

Wrapped in a cloak of twilight hues,

Surveys the land, where whispers sing,

Of summer's end and winter's clues.

The streams, now cooler, murmur low,

Through russet ferns and bracken brown,

A silver thread where secrets flow,

In the velvet dusk, the day's gown.

The stone walls, worn by time's embrace,

Stand steadfast in the shifting light,

While shadows dance a slow, soft pace,

Beneath the amber autumn night.

Cottages nestle, warm and bright,

Against the cooling, creeping air,

Fireside tales and candlelight,

Weave warmth into the autumn's lair.

The fields, once green, now softly blaze,

With remnants of the harvest's pride,

As twilight deepens, evening lays,

Its quiet hand, and time abides.

In Edale's autumn, the world slows down,

A golden hush upon the earth,

Where every tree and hill and town,

Prepare for winter's quiet birth.

And in this season's fleeting grace,

We find a peace, a whispered calm,

As Edale's autumn, face to face,

Bestows its quiet, healing balm.