It has turned to autumn now
But that's not what I see.
Where the leaves are brown and red
Is black and white to me.

Yes, the frost as gripped the air
As summer bids adieu,
But I was cold in mid July
So tell me what is new?

Soon the lakes will glaze with ice
That's carried in the breath
Of the autumns genesis;
Exhaling gelid death.

So, another season comes
Another season goes.
All that's dead remains as such
And all that's living grows.
All that's cold in self and touch
Will some day decompose.