Summer’s last moon has waned–
Waned
As amber fires
Of an Aztec shrine.
The invisible breath of coming death has stained
The withering leaves with its nepenthean wine–
Autumn’s near.
Winds in the woodland moan–
Moan
As memories
Of a chilling yore.
Magnolia seeds like Indian beads are strown
From crimson pods along the earth’s sere floor–
Autumn’s near.
Solitude slowly steals,
Steals
Her silent way
By the songless brook.
At the gnarly yoke of a solemn oak she kneels,
The musing joy of sadness in her look–
Autumn’s near.
Yes, with her golden days–
Days
When hope and toil
Are at peace and rest–
Autumn is near, and the tired year ‘mid praise
Lies down with leaf and blossom on his breast–
Autumn’s near.
(Cale Young Rice)
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Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, War & Peace Poems, Summer Poems, Lies & Deceit Poems, Autumn Poems, Solitude PoemsBased on Keywords: gnarly, aztec, songless