The trees were glorious In a disarray of color, Each bough lowered with the weight Of an autumn delirium— Hedge and shrub fruit-studded, joyous, All that was left of summer Mingle in the day’s dimness, and, Borrowing from this deeper purple, Time fruitless dribbles into night. A hush generous as monsoon, In the wildest summer air, Will stand with them on this green edge— All but silence in the tree’s movement.

A flickering leaf breaks silence.— Ever, a murmurous design, ever Life exists, elusive and ephemeral, The scattered leaves spiral to the ground— Softened by the falling sun and its orange in the sky.

• “Autumn in the Woods”

• Laura Riding