Autumn

The bleared eye of August set to streaming silver mists,
Which dot the dappled dryads with a chill that light resists,
And ‘pon the frostbit flora falls a pall of scorching shades –
Autumn’s robe of amber with vermilion brocades.
She sweeps the hallowed hollows with her conflagrative train,
Reclaiming with a flourish the Summer-stol’n domain,
Awash with auburn eulogies – leaves relieved of greens –
To bid adieu the season and its oft’ oppressive miens.

Come the fragile footfalls ‘midst a forest’s worth of pine,
Oak, and maple bedding like a down-quilted design.
The seasoned breeze a-tingle with a presage so piquant
It spurs passed shadows, dressed in weeds, again to their favorite haunt,
Thus wreathing woods in web-like whispers ‘neath the waning night;
Thus shifting leaves with unseen feet within the fog-flung light.
With masquerades and grave parades so greeting the Fall-preened trees,
No wonder the wonder and morbidity we esteem on these hallowed eves!