Autumn nights and quiet woods,
Mirroring lakes without ripples,
No screams of pain or skid marks
From a life in full retreat.
Only heartbeats, echoing contentedly
Like a retired summer breeze
Inspiring flight in nature’s red wings.
The night air is starting to get frosty,
And with the cold and the blackening of nights
Comes clarity and a gentling of afternoons
Mellowing into autumn.
With a skim of white before our breaths
We float our summer selves into a sea
Of purple and gold.
Autumn will soon walk through the land,
Touching youth with her magicked hands.
A new spring of memories will color the delicacy of life,
Reminding all manifested spirits of the harmony
Of a year gone by.
Walking through wooded lanes,
threaded with sunshine and shadows –
So beautiful yet suggestive of sadness.
Much like the human mind;
With memories threaded on a string like pearls.
They are the luminous forerunners of autumn,
When light must clasp the hand
Of the night.