Autumn

The doom of a perpetually dying season

Its breath stinks of rancid decay

Its bite gnaws at sickly bark

And ripples the trees barren and alone

A long drop from atop the mountain bizarre

As solemn fall arrives from both near and afar

The crows bellow black and bleak

The beaks silent whisper of determined winds speak

Volumes of the dreadful hours behold

The feast of souls rise vivaciously

Throughout the fingerless maples

Deeply saddened elms and the white blooded briar

Sleep tonight in deciduous forests of Autumn