I flew down Garforth Cliff
One September Sunday morn
The snaking plunging tarmac
Leading to a distant shimmering city scape
The crowded industrial Valley
Bathed in early morning gossamer mist
Trees beginning their autumn journey
Faintest hints golden brown
Much excitement all around
Busy outdoor action
Runners, bikers, cyclists
Sunday morning doers
The light, is the thing
Different, that tilted earth to blame
Last vestiges of summer
So sharp, clear, crisp
Early morning
September sunlight
Making everything
Look well, just great
