Poets of Autumn

Leaves have fallen;
we rake and burn them.
Smoke signals scent the season
bittersweet.

O! How time does go on,
the pendulum never stopping.
No need to grieve for the trees,
they will endure.

Though the air is gathering a chill,
our Isadora scarves
dance in the wind. We live
in the miracle of today.

This moment is irretrievable;
store it in your heart.
Time stops for no one,
but it will pause for your song.

4 thoughts on “Poets of Autumn

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