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Posts : 337
Join date : 2008-09-22
Age : 27
Location : Albuquerque, NM

PostSubject: Autumn    Tue Jan 18, 2011 10:44 pm

The smoky air, the dying trees
the fiery leaves upon the breeze
is living as it should be done.
Our death is always meant to come.

The land foresees its coming sleep
The nip of cold begins to creep
In caravans of air
the winter's coming near.

But trees and birds of summer days
Breathe in and out, and shout, and shout!
"Our time is ever running out
So let us die in happier ways!"

And so the oak and sycamore
adorned in fire from leaf to core
burst forth in swaying song
and urge the chilling breeze along.

Their falling leaves float on like sparks
of fireworks to light the dark
and hold the night at bay,
their life passing each day.

The cardinals and the blue-jays fly;
cavort from branch to branch on high
the frenzied party plays
and the singing birds still say:

"Our time is ever running out
So let us die in happier ways!"
The trees and birds of summer days
Breathe out their last with solemn shout.

The patterns of our world reveal
with red and orange Autumn zeal
That death is just a part
of this living work of art.

The party ends, the coffin's close
the petal's falling from the rose
the world succumbs to gray
A veil of snow to seal the day.

But still the wheel of time is spinning
Know that death is never winning,
Spring is coming on
Life, and breath, and shining dawn!

So Autumn is the final stand
A cry of triumph through the land
The resurrection story
displayed in autumn's glory!

Oh, let us say without a doubt,
"Our time is ever running out
So let us die in happier ways!"
For nights will never cease the days.
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