The summer’s fruits crumble in the shadows,*
Their life and flesh eaten away by the crows.
The bite of the air that once seemed so bold
Has faded into a constant, dreary cold.

 

The leaves are dying, turning brown,
Floating towards the cold, hard ground.
With colors so incredibly bland,
They form a bleak blanket over the land.

 

The sun and the flowers commence hibernation,
Hiding away, as if denying creation.
The world is cold and limp and pale,
The end approaching without fail.

 

The world feels like it has lost all its flare.
The leaves fall somberly through the air,
Descending towards their open grave,
As trees let go of what they can’t save.

 

The summer had been so alive,
The sun allowing the trees to thrive.
They sprouted flowers, grew and grew
Leaves holding on when the wind blew.

 

But all good things must come to an end,
Death a creature no being can fend.
Beautiful lives fade into the past,
Come and gone, gone so fast.

 

The black, bare branches all alone.
Gray and dark where the sun once shone.
The trees, mere skeletons of what they once were,
Shivering like dogs who’ve lost their fur.

 

It’s not hard to smell the scent of death
As it floats on the wind’s icy breath.
The memory of joy still remains,
But right now, there is only pain.

 

The asters, once blue,
Let go of their hue.
The Queen Ann’s Lace,
Has lost all its grace.
The core of their being no longer exists.
Life as they knew it cannot persist.
What happens in the end we might never know,
But when it comes time, we must let it go.**

 

The giant trees turn to gray
All their colors gone away.
A few still red, but losing the fight,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light***

 

But inevitably, they lose the war
The coming of winter always sure.
So they finally let go of all that is bright
And settle in for eternal night.

 

*Adapted from “Fall Song” (Oliver, 18).
**Adapted from “In Blackwater Woods”(Oliver, 83).
*** “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night,” Dylan Thomas.