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October in the New Forest.

October has a smell,

Damp moss and woody tones.

A stillness in the woods,

Where pigs and ponies roam.


Heavy dewy mornings,

With a nip in the air.

Where spiders spin their webs,

And guard their dew-dropped lair.


On golden sunny days,

Find butterflies on the wing.

The deer are rutting woodlands,

And birds still joyously sing.


Fungi pushes up,

In many a shape and size.

And an acorn on the head,

will always give a surprise.


The trees are slowing down,

And starting to let go.

But before they lose their leaves,

They produce a colourful show.


The chilly drawing nights,

Are a wonder to explore.

Before they turn too cold,

And freeze you to the core.


Solitude and wonder,

Is what October is to me.

Reflecting and celebrating,

The samhain scenery.


A time to express honour,

To our precious land.

And as we walk the woodland,

Ancestors take our hand.



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