Autumn’s Lament

In the swirling dance of falling leaves, I hear the lament of autumn’s breath, The crisp scent of decay in the air, As trees stand bare against the chill, Their roots clinging to secrets of summer.

Each leaf a memory, fluttering down, A reminder of what once was bright, But in the rustle, there’s a promise, Of renewal in the silent depths, Where life waits for the warming sun.

• George Mackay Brown