Alone at last in my garden shed
The beds are made the dog is fed
In the quiet I await creative thought
But comes there nothing, zilch, nought.

It's not supposed to be like this
I should exploit this place of bliss
I take yet another sip of tea but
Still no talent envelopes me.

The grass is dew wet and wild birds sing
Today is warm as if it's spring
The flowers nod in the zephyr breeze
With apples falling where they please.

This is autumn at its best
My favourite month - keep the rest
Summers gone, it is no more
Now squirrels seek their winter store.

I try something employed by poets passed
To glorify nature!  The subject is vast
So inspired by the beauty on display
The words now flow - I've something to say!