Autumn

Autumn has come yet once again.

Beyond my garden window I glimpse in a moment
The flash of many wings among the stand of trees beyond.

I slowly turn my head to gaze upon a flight of doves, perhaps,
And see that the flashes are but leaves, shuddering downward
In their multitudes, from the many branches to the ground below.

And there they lie upon the grass, in slumber,
Awaiting the comfort of Winter's blanket,
And the long, peaceful stillness at the last.

Seeing this I know that there will come a time
When I will miss such a sight as this.

Perhaps in my own still and silent moment, looking back,
I will glimpse for a moment the flash of many wings that are but leaves;

And recall it, if for but an instant,

As I lie still upon the ground, awaiting slumber,
And the peaceful gift that Winter brings.