Every season is beautiful here on the southern edge of the North York Moors, and although the seasons are not as distinct or predictable as in the past, autumn remains spectacular, probably because our location is so wooded. However, this year’s unseasonably mild autumn injected a note of reflective questioning into the poem which follows, and fuels our prayer for COP29.

All change?
Earth bedding down for winter now,
beneath a coverlet of leaves,
a patchwork quilt designed, you’d think,
by Morris or Burne-Jones:
all understated, subtle autumn tones.

Yet – late October –
we walked around still clad
in summer clothes,
which leaves you wondering,
or sad.

Sr Laurentia
©Stanbrook Abbey, 2024