Autumn's Dead
Warm breaths morph into a November ghost,
a spectral mist that swiftly dissipates.
And barren trees lament the loss of leaves
as Autumn approaches where Winter waits.
The wind whistles through the twigs and branches,
rattling the bare bones of the naked trees.
And sings a soulful dirge for Autumn's Dead,
as the rivers and creeks begin to freeze.
Frost accumulates upon window panes,
creating canvases for abstract art.
And fall leaves crunch and crackle underfoot
as rutting bucks challenge their counterpart.
A spent sun slinks low in a steel grey sky,
as Summer's late bloomers wither and die.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2019
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