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Autumn Leaves

(This little verse, which I originally wrote quite a few years ago, has a perspective on autumn foliage that is different from last week’s poem…)

Autumn leaves grasp
the colors of the rising sun
to mask the fact
that they are dying,
that their lives are nearly done.

Masquerading
in blushing crimsons,
empassioned ambers,
and glowing gold,
while their life’s blood
is leaving them
dry,
they seem to flaunt as they deny
what fate will unfold.

For they are too ephemeral,
too weak to last;
Death will seize them
in the dark and chill
of winter’s blast.

Yet, for a moment,
painted complexion
in bright reflection
warms the surface
of cooling waters deep;
And nothing seems as beautiful,
glorious and bountiful,
as leaves of Autumn trying not to weep.

photo credit: Dan Chase
photo credit: Dan Chase

Reposted from The Writings of Christina Chase

© 2014 Christina Chase

Christina Chase View All

I don't call myself a poet — but the beating of my heart is poetry. I don't call myself a theologian — but the light of my mind seeks the Divine. Who I am is a Child of God, a Divine Creation, a person devoted to being fully human, fully alive.

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