Now every leaf is falling fast,
The woods ablaze with gold and flame,
More beauteous at the death than in
Those splendid days when
Blossom turned to greet spring’s sun
Without a thought of summer,
Much less of fall.
But every breeze steals gold and fire,
And only bones endure beneath…
So brief is autumn: winter snows
Begin to fall before the final leaves;
And those enduring bones beneath ―
So strong yet bleak, so bare and stark ―
merely drowse, and wait, and dream
Of days when blossoms crowned their brows
And strewed their feet.
They dream, I think, of youth,
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Latest posts by Jen Downes (see all)
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