Autumn’s gold

Nature’s next breath is gold

Now, she halts aglow and bold,

Plundering the late shine of the sun, 

Blowing on the world until it is spun. 

Her final gasp before the frost to come, 

She dreads the shade she will become. 

Soon, she will lie dormant, but not yet, 

It is fame that she wants and that she will get.

Once more, she displays her riches;

With sheets of gold she sends like kisses. 

Yet, she mourns her emerald blades and 

Grieves her flower jewels; she has succumbed. 

Briskly, she burns through golden leaves  

And soon enough she shivers and it seems 

Like her naked branches and begging hands

Were not worth swift glory in the end.

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