Written by: Claire de la Grange

The breath of fall, a gauzy mist exhaled, 
Ascending, burthens seas of dappled gray, 
From whence the weeping heart of life unveiled, 
Bejewels woods in glistening display;

And there amidst the gilded alder leaves, 
The hanging mossy shawls so richly green, 
My soul is threaded with the verdant weaves, 
Envisioning the epoch Miocene;

Then up ahead, I see my venture's end; 
Across a road exists another time; 
And once again, I say so long my friend; 
Then sadly leave her fragile world behind.

The rip of chainsaws marks another load, 
As ancient dead are carried down the road.