In The Burning Shadow Of Fallen Leaves:
It's another year gone and the leaves are piled,
Awaiting their day to smoke and burn into the sky,
The glistening blue of a sky grasping the frost of every breath in the world,
The flames only erase the most visible past,
The ash lies underneath - infiltrating the ground,
The building blocks and foundation for what new will come,
Is it a Spring of green you await,
Shall the harvest soon to come be forgotten?
See the shadow of leaf smoke long across the ground,
It's day is nigh and the stars of Summer are falling below the Earth,
Even as the Hunter rises in the sky once again,
Eternal with sword and bow twinkling in the night,
In the night that comes all manner of ghouls and flying things will rise,
Haunting the inner vision in annual respect of death's reaping,
In the time when each flower knows it's season was too short,
Must pass and fade and brown like last Summer's grass,
And when we breath in the smoke that shadows fallen leaves,
Watch the sparks leap up and licking orange flames,
The bare dead tree limbs and endless night question us,
Did you ever love enough in your short season?
Looking through the knot hole of a gourd,
It begs a question,
"When it comes to love,
What could possibly Oh Great Pumpkin,
What could possibly ever be enough?"
By: Daniel A. Stafford
I feel this every single Fall. Some more than others, but every one.