Artless autumn leaves now fallen lifeless on the ground <br />have reached the end of summer's journey intricately found <br />as a multicolored blanket, blown by fall's frail breath; <br />the forest's fragile overlay has now met with death. <br /> <br />Aristotle's burden joined with nature's philosophy <br />has fallen from lone empowerment atop the tallest tree. <br />Veining winsome winter words uttered in remorse, <br />have willed the vegetation's fall on a steady downward course. <br /> <br />Pythagoras' calculations could not save the leaves, <br />the fronting cold devoured them like sticky fingered thieves. <br />As utter-less as Socrates, the treetops' speechless words <br />have beckoned in the winter and uprooted all the birds. <br /> <br />This purer pulse of winter's stiffness nipping at our heels, <br />runs a slower course of time, unheeding our appeals.<br /><br />Christine K. Trease<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aristotle-s-artless-autumn/
