When Autumn Comes

Yes, autumn time is here,

and spring is far away.

The memories of summer

linger still.

And in the hedgerow

autumn writes its message

in the trees,

to be prepared, for

 winter's on its way.

 

If I could be

one of those trees

which one would I be?

Some shrivel up in duns and browns

leaves withering like wrinkled hands

hang down.

And other trees

give up their leaves

at the first icy blast,

 stand naked then

and shivering

clothed only in their bark.

Yet some, it seems

grip tight their leaves

and will not let them go

though they are dead and dry.

 

But not for me these dried up trees

I'll don the bonfire hues.

Burning bright

against the cold and ice

I'll shout out to the sky.

In flame and crimson bold

in oranges and gold

I'll party in the hedgerows

one last time.

When all is done

and winter comes

 will I be ready then

to shed my leaves

give up the dance

look to another spring?