My Ode to Autumn...

Gold and scarlet painted leaves

hang delicately on the trees.

They fall and float upon the breeze,

the Zephyr's captive slaves.

Then dance and twirl upon the earth

crunch underfoot, erstwhile the turf

grows cold and damp; the shadows long,

til Summer's faded rose is gone.

Like embers in a fun'ral pyre

they leap and dance amidst the fire.

Like secrets hid: my heart's desire,

they brittle, live no more.

Wet and cold, lain dead they moulder, 

in trenches, drains, and gutters deep,

and decompose, the worms to feed - 

slain soldiers in a heap. 

We all are leaves, Our season's now,

so laugh and grow upon the bough:

for someday soon, I know not when,

the light will fade again.

(C) David Lord Cowell, March 2013.