Close bosom friend of the maturing sun'
Robins sing in the silence and stillness. Mist hugs the fells and the sun will break through and burn it off. This could be a moment for sloes in the foggy, foggy dew. I haven't long.
The green fruit on a spindle bush ripen to rose. If its leaves last they could be autumn gold when the pink fruit split to reveal orange seeds. Mellow fruitfulness comes fitfully. Coincidence of weather and season sometimes bring wondrous effects, if you look, if you choose the right moment, the right year.