melancholic fancies drift down from the sky.
colorful tears that fall from the eyes,
of the trees that stand so proud and high.
the joy of the pigment combines with new death.
a fanfare of brilliance that comes with last breaths ,
shows in the paintings that ‘round trees enwreath.
hailing a time where creation will sleep
when the trees will stop with their picturesque weeping
and snow on the ground will only keep deepening.
but with a dark night there will always be morn.
new growth, new spring, new daylight, new dawn.
and and again the green of new life will adorn.
Ahh. Fall... Somehow we still have leaves on the trees which is practically unheard of at this time of year where I live. But I'm loving every second of it. And I can never do it justice, but here's my best attempt...