Although I have never studied poetry writing, it is something I like to do from time to time. This is never planned. It usually begins when I am out walking alone, a verse will pop into my mind which I then continue at home. The poem below is one I completed a couple of weeks ago, a series of observations from my frequent walks. Turning colours, lowering light, long cast shadows and early night. Glowing fronds, wet with dew, adorn the hills with sienna hue. Dappled shades, of Emerald and Gold, slowly shift from Summer's hold. Floating leaves, from the Sycamore, move shadows on the river floor. Wooded walk, turns to open fell, where ancient limestone has a tale to tell. The summit promises a nice hot drink, to clear the mind, no troubles to think. A sliver of silver across the bay, beckons in the end of day. Flames of amber in the fire dance, to say on nature we cannot enhance. © C Lawson 2020 It would be nice to know what you think, I am always open to criticism to help me improve.