October 17, 2014

The leaves are changing colour

as if The Seven yet breathed

Green to golden flame

Temporary iridescence

darting careless through the sky

to grace the forest floor

Such carpet as Solomon could wish

Too hurried, leave barren branch

face the cold November wind

Alone

Too long the rustling hymn replaced

by winter's dreary dirge

All too soon naught but grey

against these cold slate skies

But before they go

Oh! Before they go

Glory!