Autumn’s Dance

By Northwind of Otters

Slowly, always slowly,

She comes out from her hole,

Dipping her fingers in Earth’s waterbowl,

Sprinkling and flinging the crystal drops wide,

She fights off Summer’s wrathful tide.

Angry, always angry,

Summer bows to none,

Under swelt'ring heat and scorching sun,

Dry and mournful Earth groans beneath her reign,

As the pale moon waxes and wanes.

Sadly, always sadly,

Earth excepts its fate,

Allowed only to cry for rain and wait,

Wishing it were as green as in the Spring,

Waiting for the life Autumn will bring.

Bravely, always bravely,

She lovingly returns,

Her face is pained, her skin covered in burns,

With her own mournful tears she restores fall,

But mourn, mourn, oh Earth, stars and all!

For Autumn’s first breath is also her last,

Exhaled upon this grateful land that sang of her.

Rain sweeps the Earth as the sky cries,

Taking Autumn into its tender arms,

And carrying her away to await the day,

When she returns to fight Summer again.