The First Night of Autumn

As the leaves cast themselves to the wind,

I know there is beauty in transience.

The echoes of summer whisper away

Like the petals cast to the Autumn wind,

Their seeds cascaded to the ground below

And it is then - in Autumn - they are planted;

With the harvest moon, born into glory

Not summer glory with its shades of green,

But Autumn glory in red, the colour

Of fire - a phoenix born of ash

And gold; the gold of the harvest and her

Moon which - waxing - knows the truth of shadows

Which blossom beneath on a September

Night; the first night in Autumn.

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