Life is full of the weary, autumn leaves, And through open woods takes a long summer break, Lie half bared above the foliage, sun-filled to see, So softly through the tilting trees above at play.
The autumn sun rests again beneath the mist, And peeking down stair past clouds the fading sonata flies. Growth on torn limbs, sheltering yet the unaware, In the lightness of the fall feels like dying.
There is beauty through an open sky, And softly she murmurs, this ambrosia beauty. A prescient sway across a field—the traces mend With a shout and sway of sunlight reflecting farther still.
- Robert Frost