As the sun peaks its Golden head
Over the dark horizon
the sky turns from blue to grey
foretelling the start of a new born day
brown leaves rustle and fall
their forms remembering a past summer
when they were bright and young.
The rippling stream flows clear
As the leaves glide to its glassy surface
Floating atop the buoyant water
Its effervescent liquid
As cold as the coming winter.
And as the misty dew settles
On the bent grass
Birds raise their voices
In the melancholy song of a new day,
Breaking the silence of the morning
And waking the world to a new day.