Home

400

AUTUMN LEAVES
From
WHEN YOU CAN’T SEE THE TREES FOR THE WOOD

Paul Woods
Paul Woods

Of late Autumn
As frost comes to lie below
The boughs and limbs
Stained leaves
Like abstract art
Strain and lean to the will of the wind

Hear them sigh their swan song
Their soulful rustling
Before the iceman cometh
And like weightless thoughts
Begin to fall as feathers of wild color

Gathered up by the wind
Like butterflies, they migrate through
Back yards, still life fields
Their gusty flight a fiery blizzard

Paul Woods, Author