Autumn came in multicolors last year, <br /> Fiery reds and burnished oranges <br /> Bright yellows and rusty greens, <br /> Painted leaves that floated <br /> From barren branches <br /> And rested lightly on the sleeping grass <br /> The musty smell of dying things <br />So particular to autumn <br />Lingered in the air. <br />Death comes spectacularly <br />Proudly, in Autumn. <br /> <br />'This is not Death 'I thought <br />Death is the sand of your lifes hourglass, <br />Spilling grain by ever decreasing grain <br />Onto the scales of Death' <br /> <br />Autumn is the time of sleeping <br />The dawn of a new beginning.<br /><br />Joseph Enright<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-68/
