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Writer's pictureJen Blaxall.

Battling the elements.


And the wind blew strong

The forest has been dry,

For oh so long.


Puddles ripple,

Across the windswept land,

While wind facing corvids,

Struggle to stand.


Sun then rain,

Blows through the heath,

As a fox shelters,

In the ground beneath.


Ponies take shelter,

Backed up to the gorse,

As blackbirds bathe,

In the sheltered pools


Apples drop,

And berries fall,

An easy meal,

For small mammals.


Lemon and rust,

The leaves are turning,

Holding their best,

As the wind is whirling.


A joy to me,

But not to most,

The battling elements,

Becomes our host.


Feeling alive,

With the wind in my hair,

Rain on my face,

And smell of autumn air.


By Jen Blaxall.




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