Fall Musing

A Poem

326

Our fall has come

I feel its shroud

Pervade the early morning,

while nature’s tears,

Which once meant life,

are drumming down in mourning.

And on the ground

in humble brown

The branches’ pride

are fading—

The fall is here

and winter looms

With death

its choice of lading….

Please speak to me

of summer sun

And tell me again of spring,

for winter threatens

Gloom and doubt,

but you still wear my ring.

My brow’s not smooth,

my words, not quick,

My steps, unsteady now,

but all those things

I used to be

still touch your heart, somehow….

If you will reach

and take my hand,

Winter might let us be,

and spring may come

And smile on us—

on you, my love, and me.

A Hill resident, the author believes that the appreciation of art should not be influenced by the vagaries or prejudices of biography.