Autumn's Last Stand
Lofty trees are stripped of their delicate leaves-
My nose was captivated by the aroma of wood burning into embers,
I could feel the chill of the changing air directly on my face
All flowers have gone into hibernation-
Now the bushes, still gripping onto their shade of emerald
Recoil at the thought of the on-coming change,
One cannot help but apprehensive
For only sheltered days lie ahead,
A petite helping of deceased leaves are ripped
From the frost-covered ground and enveloped
Into the air’s current
Forming a vortex,
Nature is aloof when I speak to her-
She lacks response when I whisper
Winter is on the way.
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