Glory

Waking to a chill that tells me
Summer days are in the past,
My window frames the Autumn etchings
Of living leaves that change so fast
 
First to gold and crimson glory
Before they fade and start to fall
As sunlight dances through their shadows
Amidst the visions I recall.
 
It leaps through Autumns of my childhood
As I leaped into the day
Scattering a pile of leaves
‘Til angry voice chased me away
 
And squirrels begging for fresh walnuts
That we left by every tree
We’d played beneath throughout the summer.
They would store them frantically
 
To prepare for Winter’s coming
When snow lies thick on the ground
With all below it lying dormant
And little fresh food to be found.
 
© 2013  Pam H. Murray

 

(Begun 101112, final edit 072613)