When the leaves fall, I will grieve for them.

I lie awake at night, 
under stars like heavy eyes 
behind the shade of unseen clouds - 
The sun will wake before I fall asleep.

When I rest beneath the trees 
I shade my eyes with splayed fingers 
and dream of running 
                        through piles of autumn leaves.
At summer's end the green vaults run red; 
a sea of rust in a bone yard of bare wood and bark,  
and the earth is cold and hard with early frost.

By the bonfires at summers end
I will toast to the ageing sun and the coming snow.
When the leaves fall, I will grieve for them.