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While Autumn Sleeps in Silence
Copyright 2008 Ruth Keyes

 

what sacred, secret place is this

where seasons fly upon the wind,

and the spirit of Autumn

rests in solitude,

passing the days between winter and summer

with visions of russet, red and gold

in colors so vivid

even the windswept flame

could never hope to reflect them.

It is here in silence that Autumn sleeps,

touched by night with hoary frost,

that edges her swirling hair with silver.

Here she waits,

serenaded by howling winter winds until,

in a swirl of spring and a burst of summer,

time again calls for her to paint upon his canvas.

The with flame-colored palette

and crisp Autumn breezes

her melody bursts over all of creation,

like the tune of a moonlit scarecrow,

played on a fiddle of fire.

Soaring, leaping, dancing it flies,

scattering summer in it's wake,

and daring winter to freeze it in snow,

soon...soon...the call will come,

a hint of red, a touch of harvest,

and she will stir from her silent slumber.

Look lovingly upon her while you may,

sing with her song while the winds still play it.

For though she will never cease to dance

 in her time upon the Earth,

so, too, her time will never cease to pass.

 

 

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