The fair-hued leaves of autumn fall and crush
Upon the browning grass of summer past
As atmosphere proclaims its silent hush
And forest-dwellers wait a winter's fast.
The worldly norms of beauty pale and fade
Upon the face of man in aging state
As countenance begins to retrograde
And mind creates a wondrance of Death's weight.
We ponder Nature's cease of beauty best
Which she herself provided in the spring.
Her gentle call is mild, yet manifest.
All life must follow Nature's beckoning.
But Death prepares the way for springtime blessed
In which new life the spirit is refreshed.