“The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year.  Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.”

– William Cullen Bryant


The Last Goodbye

Colors fade

As Autumn sighs,

And on her leafy

Deathbed lies.

Her breath grows cold,

And chills my bones.

Like barren tree,

I stand alone.

***

Busy birds,

All chattering,

Are in the meadow

Gathering;

Sharing secret

Travel plans

To warmer fields

And distant lands.

***

Sometimes I wish

That I could fly

Through rushing clouds,

Through Autumn sky,

Beyond the veil

That dims the light,

To places fair

With colors bright.

***

If I had wings

To join their flight,

I know that at

The end of day,

My destination

Still would lie

In meadow brown,

‘Neath Autumn sky.

***

The Autumn vigil

I would keep,

And gently sing her

Off to sleep.

Hush.

© Pamela Stead Jones 2011