Pamela Wyn Shannon Woolgathering
I pull the leaves from my tangled hair
The gusty wind storm had blown them there
Burning leaves scent the autumn air
The smoke rolls up through the haze
I pull the burrs off my ragged coat
Woolen scarf snug around my throat
The river swells with teacups afloat
In the dark drizzling day
O, Autumn I love your ways
Your burnished leaves and your golden hay
The way you wake me with your restless wind
That hollers wide through the braes
O, Autumn I love your ways
Your melancholia and brooding gaze
Will you promise to keep mo warm
With woolgathering days?
I spin the days with my wandering
I knit the months with my squandering
I weave the feathers of a fledgling
Stained with the ripe fruit's red wine
I pull the tufts from the thorny brake
Your blustery winds tempt to vex my stay
But I'm forever dyed-in-the-wool
With my woolgathering ways
