What light is this where light is lost

Through dappled shroud

Where no song of bird can be heard

From the autumn blast and snickered breeze

The willing wilting leaves

Who shed their chameleon green

In favour funeral yellow orange and red

Those willing leaves

Who give themselves

For next year’s rise and sap

 

What light is this that spreads its wings

Upon the open lake

Where the crawl of crowds takes the air

In great suffocating gulps

With little care for what they see and hear

Among the green and yellow brush

The seething mellow crush

Of symphonic lives

To wave and turn

To sway and jaunt before the final curtain falls

And winter brings its naked cold and dark repose