The days of autumn
paint leafy boughs of green,
In other palette colors,
like the fruit of a tree is seen...
We see the foliage turn,
at this time, the fall of the year,
When varied artist hues,
like reds and yellows appear...
Into this colored scene,
a wind blows through the trees,
Detaching these ripen'd leaves,
for nature to capture, to seize...
They
fly through the air
in flight that's all too brief,
They fall upon the ground,
many not, the tree beneath...
I see the falling leaves,
by my window pass...
Carried by the breeze,
beyond my window glass...
I see the ways they move,
off from where they're from:
They move, not all the same,
as down to earth they come...
Sometimes
they hurry down,
and seem to fall so fast,
While others, linger a little,
but for none, doth long it last...
Some of them ,
flutter by,
Something like
a butterfly...
As
away they hie,
these should us remind:
Some day, thus go I,
away, as all my kind...
From where I cling
to a twig of the human tree,
And my stem'd attachment there,
no longer there I'll be...
JohnRiedell
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Rights Reserved
Site Last Updated on 11/20/10