Secrets of Fall
Dry leaves paling now….red going down to brown
They sigh across the dying grass
Whispering secrets no one can know
The trees bare their branches
Wind moaning through them
Like a graveyard ghost
The death of things is pungent now
A smell of fall; a preview of winter
The summer fades like dew in the sun
Pumpkins out now, garish faces
Against the growing dark
Though there is still time
We must be wise to it’s march
And remember that all things
Go the way of darkness
In the end.
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