Autumn's Brush

As the summer passes by,

The leaves among their branches sigh

And tumble from their lofty perch

From high atop the tallest birch.


The wind gives them a careless toss,

The mottled trees bereave their loss.

And one by one, the earth reclaims

The fallen leaves that, from earth, came.


As summer’s masterpiece decays,

The daylight, too, quietly gives way

To glowing twilights, golden-flushed.

And earth, once brimming, seems to hush


The summer ebbs, and slips away

Now autumn wields its finest brush.

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