The Fall


Autumn was a glut

It poured forth its libations upon us.

Blackberries like jet

Hanging like grapes shining, swelling,

Apples varnished with sunshine,

Plums in vacant bloom

Like a sunset full of colour.

Nuts full to rattling.

Crab apples bending boughs

Beneath the weight of fruit.

Nature bowed its ready seed to fruit.

I stared at my kitchen filled with brimming baskets,

Rich with the year’s harvest,

My heart heavy,

For with each fall a passing comes,

Each year an ending of a life,

Each apple dropping like a stone

Is a heart stopping.





I was collecting fruit from Epsom Downs in the autum of 2013. I wrote this to celebrate the passing of; Bryan Martin (photographer), Philip Webster, Seamus Heaney (poet), David Frost (Broadcaster), David Jacobs (Broadcaster), Caroline Beaumont (PA at Epsom Racecourse and supporter of all things equestrian), John Jones (Horseman and old friend of Monty Roberts), Nelson Mandela, Bill Towill (A Chindit), Peter O’Toole.