Softly cries the whispered western wind
Like gentle strings plucked in final allegro,
Rising up through rustled leaves ascending
And cascading in mournful peace as snow
Yet to come, but better amber Autumn offers
For the air is cool, comforting, nature’s breath
As sienna sunlight soaks pumpkin coffers
Of gold and seeds, fruits fat, and death
As we know it has given Earth her due
And She, us, for in fertile soil somberly decays
These gorgeous leaves the little winds blew
From their trees, now bare, hue brown today
And winter is here to quiet the world now
As She sleeps beneath inches of white cold,
My forest, my fields bare, my prints crunched down
And I remember burnt brown, red, and gold,
The audience gone and crescendo passed
And I should head home too, a ways to go
With but memories of misty Autumn last,
For the past has passed and I’ve new seeds to sow.
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