The breath of autumn dawns
upon the stagnant, sullen ground.
Quaking oh so suddenly,
and spreading whispers round.
The scent of every color
changing tone to tone.
and falling, effervescently
beneath the moon's stark bones.
The silent metamorphosis
creeps from grass to tree,
not accursed or tantalized,
but ever now so free.
They're playing tag with color,
and shedding summer shade,
caressing grass with remnants
of winded leaves as graves.
Now, as the sun decides to set,
and beckon warmth awry.
A streak of color lights the earth,
and collapses in the sky.