Falls Ending

April 2009

Post rains visit,
as drenched leaves follow,
gusts seem to speak;
recollect on
seasons haste;
memories among scents.

It is your crimson,
not white, I wish to see.
Vibrant skies,
harmonizing with all
you have given
to my ground.

Now comes white world.
Fall last seemed to pass
Devoid of farewell.
Frozen rain raids,
layering your colors.

Here, exodus
of this glorious setting;