Leaves of gold and brown dance slowly and sway.
A soft rain falls this lazy Autumn day.
A hint of cold accompanies the breeze,
Its rustling whisper passing through the trees.
The rainwater gives the pavement a glow,
As it fall from on high to splash below.
A squirrel seeking shelter leaps to a limb,
Which bends in protest, so brittle and slim.
This window frames a scene of change and awe.
I delight in each perfection and flaw.
Though oer'cast and gloomy this day may be,
There's genius and beauty in all I see.
But a few more days before seasons' flight,
And this window's view will frame a new site.
The process repeats again and again.
What we call new has yet already been.
I know not how many seasons I'll see,
Nor how many days are stored up for me.
I know not the date I return to dust,
Yet the Maker of it all has my trust.
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