Remember, remember the fifth of November*,
But better, the past works and pieces remember, remember.
Forgot not have we? For “fair is foul and foul is fair”
Then forever, should we hold nearest those a’dear.
A mindless creature holds dearest his food at hand,
A mindless tree holds dearest its leaves, roots, and beloved land.
But a tree can hold forever his dearest leaves not,
For the current greatest will soon be tomorrow’s rot.
So what brews and exhales is but the autumn breeze,
And for what dances by such blesses: the autumn leaves.
Tell me you’ve forgotten not these dancing pests,
To dance and wander upon the skies, they need not rest.
Upon the window outdoors do they dare not dance,
For this distraction yields nothing but a mesmerizing trance.
With such improper dance comes improper lyrics unsung,
Which only sings to those previous works and dreadful puns.
So should we recall the Wallace and lobster and moral facade,
And the mysteries of black holes, the universe, and all that is odd.
And should we recall that “flowing sea of fallen heads,”
And that Hamlet and Othello that you may have also read.

From yesterday’s autumn to today’s now, can we rewind not,
Because since then, has numerous change been sought.
For even the great trees, their dearest lost leaves free a’last
Only to freely dance abandoned in the recent past.

But yet, this autumn has brought one of many treats,
For here in Amherst, Halloween was but a Christmas meet.
A snowstorm unexpectedly covers Amherst in a sheet of white,
Bringing the season of autumn to unexploited greater heights.
So a night in the midst of dark, were we forced to stay,
And a lack of classes announced the tomorrow’s day.
But as the day awoke, upon the ground – splits and shatters of numerous trees,
And aside their graves bore branches and their so-called beloved leaves.
Have we remembered the photos of this dramatic event?
To snow, to snow, and the aftermath’s discontent.
Had they not clung upon the dearest leaves will tis still stand,
So consequentially now, do both fall upon the failed land.
For now can we see that labeled beloved is truly beloved not,
For such trees has their deemed beloved, suffering brought.
For now can we see, to wear a crown so heavy is but a destined fall,
For upon the grounds are these trees split a’two; once wholesomely tall.
But shall some still stand, through the window I see,
A survivor, a survivor! A tree, a tree!
Though branches apart and leaves adieu,  
A month’s time, has this tree stood heavenly true.

And through the course of this semester, my writing a tree,
To grow, to deteriorate, to assimilate neither can be.
For a tree shall stand over its environmental stress,
So will the works and pieces that I dearly express.
For with these works, should the rules bend and stretch,
To house the hopeful, yet bombastic artist sketch.
From autumn ‘til now, has the trees changed greatly,
Although my writing, failed change has failed to see lately.
To be truly honest, my words to the ears may bleed,
But must I say see’st no change in my writing indeed.
And for me to reflect on change that’st occurred not,
For best I reflect on the opportunities that were given allot.
With the rules bent and greatly stretched,
Were the thoughts I mouthed gracefully etched.
Oh, be’st the tree, to stand greatfully proud,
For to have assimilation here is but unallowed.
Call it ignorance or ingratitude, actually it may be,
For dearest pieces and works can change not by he or she.
Call it grandiloquent or effervescent, for the rules bent,
For the treacherous waves of thought can I dare not prevent.
Be it impulse or nature to the second degree,
What be’st is be, and change not it by me.
Be’st the words, a flood, upon the papers it spills,
Maybe they be of value or just numerous frills.

So must I thank you to have one read my unmouthed words,
For my thoughts set free a’last, the skies, the heavenly birds.