A Slow And Beautiful Death

Summer’s ecstasy has faded,

And it seems now, far off;

A distant dream of warmth,

And late eve’ sunsets.

Life around us seems to falter,

Withering at the thought of

Winter’s coming grasp -

It is inevitable.

Forests and glades explode into

A technicolour display of defiance.

Magnificent yellows, reds and browns -

A terminal display of splendour.

And, of course;

Though eventually they will always die,

We still commend the trees for their

Annual last stand.

Autumn’s agenda:

A slow and beautiful death,

A last celebration of warmth

Before the coming Dark.