by Lucy M. Young
One day the trees were clad in gorgeous garments, red and gold,
A radiant display that filled my heart with joy;
Then came the storm.
The rain exploded in a torrent of sound upon the roof;
The wind tore shrieking holes in saturated air.
The next day when I looked the trees were bare -
Brown lacy etchings hung against a ragged sky -
But now the ground was carpeted in emerald, crimson, gold,
Autumn's last defiant fling ere winter's bleakness.
How fleeting is our time on earth!
How fickle blow the storms of life
To change our days from joy to despair;
But may our autumns bloom in colors splendid -
The celebration of a life of usefulness and service -
Then peaceful sleep,
Awakening in the spring of life eternal
To start again the never-ending cycle.
photo by Daniel Kim on Unsplash
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 