Autumn Ghazal

The seasons cringe; they shift and out creaks leaves’ light music.

It’s cowardly to bemoan the chills, the change, the late evening-into-night music.

 

Eager autumn breeze renders summer trees naked and shivering,

stark in their nude surrender, nary an effort hangs on to compose fight music.

 

A bird-tree relation once symbiotic and passionate in its coupling,

now merely trembles, lonely in the wake of the beating-wing flight music.

 

Note the merging of color: a splattered hue on leaves as a wild painting.

While the frigid dance of air-whispers sing the woeful dirge on-site music.

 

I bear witness to pay seasonal tribute to Nature’s measured death twirling,

as without death, there cannot exist life; therefore, this pained hum is the right music. 

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