Hyde Park, waiting for a friend,

on a cool, late autumn afternoon.

The park is teeming with activity.

An unkempt itinerant evangelist

harangues the bemused walkers.

"Face the eternity of the damned,"

he boomed, "or repent, be saved.”

His pamphlets generated derision.

walkers walked on into the sunset,

the sad preacher goes home alone.

The sun slips away westward,

whispering winds rise and fall,

errant leaves toss and tumble.

The living park prepares for sleep

rejoicing in the primaeval promise

of its own rich cycle of renewal.

Autumn winds do not lament,

I know now it's not their way.

They rejoice, in songs of gently

falling leaves, their work is done,

a weakening solstice sun looks on,

and softly shades the fading day.

Evergreen ivy, shining damp,

with searching, spreading leaves,

in teasing wind and waning light,

embraces now the chilling night,

where it delicately interweaves,

clinging fast to sheltering eaves.

Vine leaves, once sweet and supple,

now crackle, dry, and blow away,

in bracken browns, and regal tints,

they glide and toss and float and fall,

and rest, a blanket thick and deep,

to nurture life-giving earth in sleep.

Nocturnal flowers escape the day,

and come their starlight dues to pay,

splendid, in deadly colourful array,

from creeping dusk, to distant dawn,

bright petals fade, and seedlings fall,

to wait their turn for springtime's call.

Ghostly sentinels tall, bold and bare,

stand ready for hard winter's way,

endure in silence, in soft silver grey.

The year draws to a cooling close,

to rest in slumber, but not to die,

this night, goodnight is not goodbye.

End Note: Hyde Park is at the living, breathing heart of Sydney, Australia, it is the southern tip of a system of parklands that provides green open spaces across the wide metropolis and on to the shores of a spectacular Harbour.

At the park boundaries, marked by lines of tall trees, the Supreme Court of New South Wales, St. James Church, Hyde Park Barracks and Sydney Hospital lie to the north. St Mary's Cathedral, the Australian Museum and Sydney Grammar School lie to the east, the Downing Centre is to the south, the department stores, theatres, restaurants and Central Business District command the west.

The park, 16 hectares [40 acres] in area, is roughly rectangular. The tree-lined pathways, grassy banks, shady nooks and inviting benches act as a magnet attracting weary city goers seeking rest and relaxation. In common with its London namesake, it is where soapbox orators berate the known and unknown universe. It is an ever-popular place for one friend to meet another.

I wrote 'Autumn' in Hyde Park, Sydney NSW for inclusion in ‘The Only Place In Town’ a play with music and verse set in an inner city performance space. It also appears in the collection ‘Rain on the Leaves’. I revised this version for presentation at a reading at Strathfield Poets, Sydney, New South Wales.

Hyde Park Sydney NSW © Dermott Ryder