Autumn Is Fallen Leaves
Autumn is fallen leaves,
the shoots push out from a gap of rocks that still covered
with yester-year’s snow, by a brook runs carrying melting ice;
it grows to a tree struggling though long and wearisome summer days
beaten by fierce heat all the day and the night.
And in that way, when the summer’s long days move to west
shoved by the west wind and dye a corner of the sky to red,
the leaves also become red and move to the west following
the waning sun.
And when the tree becomes not able
holding the weight of the west wind that comes hurriedly
pushing the weakening sun rays aside and violently shakes
the limbs the leaves fall to the ground and men, because
the leaves fall, I suppose, call it autumn.
The leaves breaking to pieces under feet,
rolling on the ground pushed by the wind
and drifting along on the water are dead leaves
and humming with the decaying season watching
those autumn leaves is a touching requiem.
Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015
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