Autumn Arrives
September’s almost coming to its end.
The shining green that clothed the trees in June
Has darkened as the shorter days impend;
Their battered leaves will presently be strewn
Beneath the boughs, which tremble in the chill
That rushes in where winds till now waxed warm,
With Summer's swelter weakening until
We sense the Equinox's looming storm.
Because for all its beauties and its joys
No Summer can persist resisting change—
When held too long, what first creates, destroys;
And only then is born what’s rich and strange.
For Autumn heralds Winter, which will bring
The frosts which in their turn give way to Spring.
October 2, 2019
Previous title: "Summer's End"
Revised October 15, 2019:
The second quatrain originally went--
Beneath the boughs, which tremble in the chill
That rushes in where winds till now blew hot.
The days fly – they inevitably will—
Still, that is inescapably our lot.
But the second sentence seemed to me to be too weak and even bordering on the trite, so I rewrote it as above. Apologies to all who've read it to date!
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