On Visiting Autumn

Autumn, nature’s culmination, The relentless greens of summer gone, An end-of-season fireworks finale.
Orange, yellow and red, The town I visit, A psychedelic crazy quilt.
A dazzling display that delights: Vibrant, shimmering beauty, An impressionist painting awakened.
A dazzling display that depresses: Are these leaves not dying? Won’t color soon be sucked from them?
Won’t they be shed, brown discards moulded into earth?
Blue, green, and white The town I live in, A warm womb of wonder.
I have lived a long and verdant summer Where the color of the flowers in the trees Mark the months and years.
Is there a steadfast season? Can I escape the fall to winter? If the seasons do not change, do I?
