…of autumn
The leaves are turning
letting fall a trail of tears
lazily drifting on the breeze
and the last petals fall like rain
following an errant wind
which rings like laughter
playing in the shadows
amongst the trees
a butterfly dances
lighter than the perfumed air
and through the blue hours
in between
it never heaves a sigh of care
the many shades of autumn
flow, diaphanous
like a silken veil
and through
these lacework windows
the sun is somehow
already
a little pale
© Ann Bagnall 2014
