The harvest in Autumn's final warm days
The works of Spring is realized in labors
A sun hangs lower over the fields in time
Glorious colors of leaves, a smokey haze
The Natural beauty so reflects our prayer
Earth's great painting comes as leaves die
And we watch but never perceive the truth
The old and young, the stale and the new
Equal in expression, in image so different
The seconds to pause lost, as we all forget
There's a world of wonder still, no regrets
A gift given, but given everyday it is lost
Beauty wasted on those ignorant to a cost
But Winter is sleeping, soon it will wake
And it will cover the world pure white
“Autumn is a second spring when every
leaf is a flower.” Albert Camus
