Autumn Stroll
I walk into the forest on my silent journey
and see the transformation around me.
The flowers like a butterfly awaiting metamorphosis,
It must be deformed and introverted
to become its beautiful, most desired form.
The leaves fall gently upon the soft earth
Like a child being put to rest.
Brassy hues of foliage like tongues of flames
Scatter everywhere.
An autumnal masterpiece
An entire world of vibrant, bold color
Nature's last rebellious message before death.
The leaves descend from the heavens back to reality.
Falling weightlessly with infinite calm.
The somber Sun hides away, sheltered from the dark.
The Moon laughs and shines her face into the night,
Calling the wind to work.
The singing winds whistle and cut through the silence,
Picking up the leaves in a melancholic dance.
The sky deadened in a gray haze,
Creeping by in a dense weighted fog.
The smell warms me with its sentimentality
The cold, crisp air of the ripe earth,
Refreshing my senses and awakening me.
The leaves crumple and die, falling onto the ground.
In silent synchronicity,
Back to the earth from whence it came in sweet solitude.
The twigs crackle and snap under my weight,
But say nothing in response to my cause of pain.
The elder trees emaciated and weakened,
Shaking and shivering,
Weathered with old age
And impatient,
Waiting to be reincarnated by the spring.
The streams and creeks frozen over.
Immortal and captured in internal youth and purity.
I see my reflection in its opaque, glittering frosted surface,
But I look older as if I were seeing someone else instead.
I break the ice to release the image from the water's grasp.
My feet crinkle under the dead leaves as I pace.
A grim musicality in their beats.
The trees bare, naked, and vulnerable.
Dead from the harsh, gnawing cold.
The flowers droop and shrivel,
Exhaling one last time.
They will be reborn again,
Rejuvenated in youthful splendor.
But for now, all is dead.
All is asleep.
All is calm.
The birds are long gone, away to paradise.
The animals burrowed away, slumbering in the depths.
The people locked up inside, dreading the cold
And longing for the warmth and livelihood of nature.
Yet I am still here, amongst the dead and not the living.