FEATHER'S AUTUMN BEING.

WHEN LEAVES OF SUMMER CRIMSON TURN,
AND CHILLED WINDS WHIP THE FOREST FERN;
THIS MAKES THE TREES TO MOAN FORLORN,
AND FROM THEIR SKIRTS ALL COLORS BORN.

IT IS THE TIME WHEN LEAVES WILL FALL,
SUCCUMB TO VICIOUS SCREAMING SQUALL;
YET AS I PEER INTO THE NIGHT,
THE LEAVES WILL DANCE AND SOFTLY LIGHT.

ABOVE THE MOON DOES SOFTLY GLOW,
BEYOND THE STARS MORE WARMLY SHOW;
THAT IF DAYS SEEM FOREVER COLD,
SPRING WILL SOMEDAY WARMTH UNFOLD.

FOR LIGHT OF DAY SHALL FOLLOW NIGHT,
AND EMERALD GREEN WILL COVER BLIGHT;
THEN FROM THE EARTH OF BARREN BOWER,
WILL SOON EMERGE A GROWING FLOWER.

FOR AFTER WINTER CHILLS THE LAND,
SPRING WILL MELT THE CARPET GRAND;
THE SUN WITH BEAMING RAYS WILL TOIL,
AND SUMMER COMES TO CLAIM THE SOIL.

THUS THE SPLENDOR OF THE SEASONS,
AND DO WE TRULY KNOW THE REASONS;
FOR IF WE DO PERHAPS WE SEE,
IT ISN'T MEN WHO HAVE THE KEY.
By
~feather~