The 6:17

 I wrote the poem last autumn. It’s inspired by a sight on the Rye. Since I don't have a photo of scuds of leaves, here's one of a maple tree caught in a last blaze of colour.

The 6:17

under a lemony sky

a litter of leaves lay

on the green

till a sudden breeze

raised them from their

recumbency

to send them rushing

like commuters racing for

the 6:17