The greying skies and falling leaves
The detritus that fills the eaves
The blanket that will crunch when stepped
Dims to a whiff, soft secret kept
As days fly by, like birds on wing
“Goodbye sweet berth” the leaving sing
In quiet do I sit and muse
To live with change is what I choose
There’s comfort in not being settled
To be in flux shall prove my mettle
Like whole cloth stitched of varied parts
Each season nests in rooms of heart
They’ll come to fore in their due time
And sanctified they are in rhyme
The Fall now in its dissipation
Met it’s not with consternation
We’re taught that when the death of things
Is cyclical, new life it brings
So do not mourn that which you see
Return it will, tis meant to be…