Grinding Gold

An Autumn Harvest grinds.

Binds, churning lands, toils

Behind the scenes of leaves

Crops return to soils.



Farming is a passion, a must

To feed the masses

The timing of seasons

Copper hue passes.


The turbulent fallacy

Burning trees whoosh

Hazy, mists of dew

Golden Enzymes hush.


An Autumn Harvest grinds,

Clunk, Click wheels the minds.


A Sonnet for East Hull Tales. October 2016.


Breath-taking landscapes near Hornsea, East Coast of Yorkshire,are by Jules taken for the BBC Weather Watchers App. 2016



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