Fallen Leaves
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Fallen sods of earth.
Created through annual extremes of growth.
Once photo coloured, now dry and tinged,
With the heady beauty of death’s yellow and gold.
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Russet flurries swirl.
A tide of faded glory washes the ground.
Dreams to wade amongst, each colour and drown.
Wrapped in a burial gown of serene fading.
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Each ochre fall.
Clasps a hint of finality to our grasp.
Pull close your plaid shawl, each line and colour,
Bled from the history of myriad fallen leaves.
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Visions of life.
Grasped in the thinness of existence.
Our comforts laid bare, for want and desire,
Primeval the pulse of naked need in our flesh.
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Moments of time.
A ragged cacophony of sound, bites.
Rage against the dusk, for why and reason,
Justify this faint gathering of fragrant blooms.
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Feel the drip of time.
A chill to spread through bone and sinew.
Alive this pause within eternities rattle, we exist,
In this exhaustive moment we live, awhile.
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