The early autumn breeze sweeps across the field.
A comfortable cool allowing free movement.
How is it you are the symbol of past prime?
The harvest ready and apples crisp and sweet.
Perhaps I see you as full of hope watching the migratory patterns form.
Maybe my spirits are lifted as you have not yet turned to frost.
Everything still a lively green; are you another jaded lover to let us down,
feigning interest and hope before you leave us nothing?
Lull us into comfort and easy sleep before leaving us cold and shivering?
I would like to believe it is beauty that you paint across the mountain side
with copper and reddened leaves.
I hope that is your farewell fire of passion – a lasting love for us to remember
By Ryan Richard Nych
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