Autumn

Lantern-waving autumn leaves
Brightest gold and yellow,
Russet and of glowing red:
Sight that gladdens ever
When ripe Autumns cloak is spread,
When the moon seems nearer.

Leafy trees, they beckon me,
All their branches swaying,
As beneath their limbs I pause -
Hear their whispering praying:
Sleepy ones, the old tree nods,
Soon you must be flying.
Winter comes to bring us rest
Spring is nearer hu-ing.

P Weaver

 a tree

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