I ponder a verse on autumn or fall—
My mind is a blank—no insights at all;
Thoughts are all scattered like leaves in the wind,
Rustling around-- no beginning or end.
A brown maple leaf drops down at my feet—
Has it come to mock my verbal defeat?
Once it was vibrant and verdant on high,
Floating aloft ‘twixt the earth and the sky.
Its beauty enhanced with summer’s demise,
Changing apparel a feast to the eyes,
From green to yellow to bright orange and red,
Then it fell, turned to brown, now it is dead.
It lies at my feet—its purpose is past—
I feel a touch sad—its charm didn’t last;
All have their seasons, their reasons and times
Playing their parts as the Master designs.
A dead autumn leaf was enough to ignite
Some thoughts for my pen, some verses to write;
Some things that seem incidental and vain
Come to inspire and revive us again.
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