Leaves have disappeared,
Only the last,
The fallen fruit remains,
Fading red and waiting frost.

Not yet visible, the latent buds
Hang silent now on leafless boughs....

Fallen summer's work
In this garden of the lost
Beneath autumn branches lie:
Graveyards of apples.

Only the passing deer
Bend low to pick the last of harvest up:
Provender quick, an easy meal
Before the coming snow.