Autumn Grace

Autumn Times

© 2012 Rolland G. Smith

Who knows which leaf will leave its stem

When autumn breezes blow.

Do angels know or higher yet

When looking down below?

Fall winds are cool and gentle too

To brush the leaves off trees.

One here, two there, and then a group;

A sprinkling-floating spree.

Are leaves, like man, to pass when done

Or is there something more?

Or is there knowing ‘neath the bark

When they must seek the floor?

Within the glory of their green

There lies a splendor bright.

There’s crimson reds and mottled gold

It's all a magic sight.

But soon the colors fade to tan

And bark becomes the trees.

Their leafy flesh is gone for now,

But there is no unease.

The trees know more than man can think

And patience is their wait.

But man must reason to his core

And wonder ‘bout his fate.

Its true for man that past his flesh

There is a spirit soul

That lives forever-learning love

Despite each earthly role.

So when a leaf will leave its stem

As autumn breezes blow?

Do angels know or higher yet

When looking down below?