I love autumn. One of my very earliest memories is going to Greenwich Park with my Dad and collecting conkers. Autumn is the best season for the senses: colour, texture, sound, smell, taste, poetry.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for