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.