Now, Fallen

Crispy leaves curl from aged to fetal As time pronounces every petal done. A moment in the lasting breath of summer, When beauty flicks from every flower flung. A burst of color paints our eye Across the newly frosted sky, Beneath a showering rain of leaves. Then summers gone, and nature grieves. Within our aging gardens a whispered crunching Meets our ear, as leaves become Nature’s cornflake breakfast Quickly eaten, disappear. Footfalls briskly whisk the hours away Every breath carried by a northern wind away. Within their reach small creatures teach us Lessons Mother Nature seeks to tell. The squirrels are first to read her poem so well, Dancing to the wind and songs that tell of Long cold days, with nothing left to eat And so they hurry-scurry, shoring bastions to the beat. Sparrows shiver on wires now, Still-life vignettes hung, with frosted edges blurred. Listening to the winter’s whistling howl They know by way of instinct what’s inferred. Hearts are sleepy-silent in the shortened hours, Resisting natures shift to stiffen flowers. We watch the season drowsy change as daylight sinks in slow demise. Fall, so like the lowered lids Of closing eyes.