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
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