Not today, by Britta Benson

Ha! Another autumn poem about leaves… you’d think I’d be a little more imaginative… But I love autumn leave and I think, their dance should be celebrated. A magic transformation right in front of our eyes… what a show. I often wonder, how the leaves feel about this change of colour, change of all. Here’s

To an autumn leaf, by Britta Benson

In case you are wondering, why I am writing so many poems about autumn leaves just now, well, it’s pretty obvious. Plus, I have been setting the prompts for this month’s session of the Boundary Way Writing Group, and, guess what? My prompts were all autumn leaves related… If not now, then when? Here’s an

Navigating autumn, by Britta Benson

Navigating autumn Well past the point of plump, of ripe, of juicy, an understanding moves in with the chills of Eastern winds. Time to get ready for the breaking, the falling, the losing, the other half of life, and the joy of returning home. Leaves let go, one by one, start another journey, light and

September haibun, by Britta Benson

September haibun Early autumn and the leaves on the trees seem to negotiate their colour and condition on a daily basis. I love this time of year, this give and take of change, the slight hesitations and then, that wholehearted surrender. Limbo, almost. Leaf! Breeze whispers, chill tugs, night weighs… Still waiting. Not yet!

The Gathering, by Britta Benson

The size of my tea cupboard is ridiculous. I mean, hey, how many different teas does one woman need? Turns out, quite a few. There’s a lot going on in my tea cupboard. So much so, that I wrote a poem about this gathering of leaves. Just a wee silly one. Here goes: The Gathering

The leaves on the trees don’t rustle, by Britta Benson

I listen to the sound of the leaves a lot. I find it quite interesting. What can I say? I live in Scotland, there is a lot of wind, so the leaves make all sorts of varied sounds and noises. It always annoys me a little, when people talk about the rustling leaves, probably, because