An English Autumn Poem by Ifi Amadiume

An English Autumn
Imagine a big tree,
Full of quite broad leaves,
Yielding only one tiny red blossom,
Not a Cherry, not a Holly blossom either.
It is Autumn, yet just a tiny red seed.
Surprisingly,
Yet unseen by birds,
Even tiny ones didn't quickly see,
To pick it.

Maybe me too, I am looking out
Too early to see its changes.
It could also be that
I do not see it coming at all.

It's nothing to totalizing
As yet.
A few colorations
Here and there,
Looking more like
Messiness.
A road obstruction by
Patches of earth-dirt,
Annoyingly like litter,
Randomly scattered
On the streets,
Sees me
Hopping and leaping up,
Here and there, wanting
To get past.

It's me doing things,
Not cats,
Not pidgins,
Not crows,
Not magpies,
Not even squirrels,
Not so much doting dogs,
Except a couple of
Dainty small ones,
Maybe once a great dame,
They look in,
Not doing fascinating things.
Well, sort of,
Nothing like my animal friends
In my other place.

Maybe, I miss already
My ozone-environ-mental
Other place landscape.
As I see here,
No headiness of colors
Causing that
Satisfying
Feeling of drunkenness.
Not yet, I should say,
Give it time,
If the rains would let off,
Give it time,
Let it spread,
Let it fill out,
Replacing all this
Still greenness
With its own
Variety of colors,
In autumnal changes,
To stun the senses,
In celebration of
An English Autumn.

(Ifi Amadiume, London, September 21,2017)