Creation cantillates her score
proclaiming autumn's rise.
She heaves an ardent whisper,
gusting skilled reprise.
Leaves deify the sacred song
they rush to bended knee.
What was once clothed with stateliness
divulged the naked trees
Humbled nobility sway about,
rebellion creaks within
The leafy armies set their ranks,
colored corps extend..
Author notes
This seems to end as an unfinished thought. I want to re-work this, but I had to get the idea out before I forgot. I hope to come back and make this a reasonable work
What did you think
Comments
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I agree with what you say about this poem in Author's Notes, but what you have up to the end of it now, I think, is very good.
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