The fields have turned golden
the wheat now bundles in rolls
the sweet rain of autumn
will soon take its tolls
while color begins to grace
the tree line with color
the golds and the russet
the browns and yellow
I listen out to the souls who
pass into the place of places
where no one returns
and awareness erases
oh the changes of time
spread before in splatter
to explain the passing
we ignore what matters
that autumn just is, what we
try not to see, the passing
of time, the reminder of seasons
when the colors bleed
copyrighted: CMM 2016