Autumn Treads

the blighters rock

’tis here that golden summer leads
as poppies softly drop there heads
and August blooms run dry to seed
for here’s the ground where autumn treads,

no mortal hand can more abate
as last red sunset skies are bled
for all is in pure nature’s estate
that here is where the autumn treads,

it should not stir that life must end
as rebirth springs from winter’s dead
so as we from our long days wend
let us with peace into autumn tread.

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