Autumn Genesis

On the first day God said: Let there be red!
Let there be rose hips flaring along the motorway verges!
Hawthorns and holly berries;
American oaks and fly agarics;
Virginia creeper firing up the fences and walls!
And there was red-
Evening and morning
the first day of Autumn.

Then God said: Let there be orange!
Let there be beech leaves drifting feet deep in the hollows of the forest;
Wild cherry and rowan,
Dawn redwood and maple.
Let the gladdon iris burst and the pyracantha explode in colour!
And there was orange
Evening and morning
the second day of Autumn


Then God said: Let there be yellow -
Let the birch be dipped in butter and the larch in sun.
Let there be ragwort and last defiant roses,
And late mellow sunshine turning brick to gold….
And there was yellow
Evening and morning
the third day of Autumn.

Then God said: Let there be green
still in the forest,
long after leaf fall,
for a promise
of the life within
and the life
to come.
So on the fourth day
He made the holly and the ivy
(Such shining holly!)
The fir, the pine, the cedar and the yew.
Oh
and the grass
Of course.

On the fifth day God said: Let there be blue...
And over the city October dawned
With a morning clear as glass
And the sky above St Paul's like Mary’s cloak-
Such blue!
Such agonising blue -


But on the sixth day the weather changed-
Quite suddenly-

Let there be indigo and violet said God
Let there be
Shadows and dusk
Twilight and storm.

The shadows lengthened as the day wore on
And the hurrying crowds massed homeward
Turning their collars up against the cold
While all across the river the gulls flew back and forth
Wailing like prophets
Crying and calling on the falling tide.

Clouds, said God.
And there were clouds.
Nimbus, nimbostratus, cumulonimbus;
Rain clouds, storm clouds, thunderheads;
Great landscapes of cloud
Rolling and building-
Swollen, leaden, laden with rain.

The wind veered suddenly with northern cold
and a million starlings swooped and screamed
under the lowering sky.
The summer is over, they cried
The harvest is ended
The golden bowl is broken
The silver cord is snapped
And the clouds return after the rain-

The night is coming, said God,
when no one can work.

The thunder stirred in its bed
The dark yawned open
And the scurrying crowds
Just for a moment
Stopped
looked up
and saw the long gulf of space
sliding towards the solstice
and the death of stars.

But not yet
said God.

Instead
Let there be…

Rain! said God.
And there was rain.
Lots of it.
Rivers and cascades and cataracts of rain-
Falling on the just
and on the unjust
(who promptly borrowed an umbrella without asking)

The scurrying crowds dived for cover.
They huddled in doorways, loitered in bookshops,
Stepped into puddles, got splashed by taxis;
Ran all the way home from the bus stop and rushed inside
To stand on the doormat dripping and weak with laughter,
Shouting did you ever see such weather?

Then God punched a hole in the clouds to let in the evening sun
And stirred and broke up the sky like a pudding mix.
He threw in all the colours he had left over and
went completely overboard on the sunset …

* * *

That’s very good, said his friend, who was walking home along the river.
It is rather, isn’t it? said God.
And they stopped for a while just to admire the view.

The lights of the city came on around them.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.

Best be getting home, said his friend, after a while. Want to pop in for a coffee?
Why not? said God.
The nights are drawing in, said his friend. Be winter soon.

But not yet
Said God.
Not yet.
Not yet.

And they went their way through the puddled shining streets
to catch the train home.