It's Autumn

With careless abandon
Nature disposes. Gone is
the carefree atmosphere of
summer, the warmth of the
sun, itself barricaded behind
the dark stormy clouds of
November. Gone is the foliage
thanks to wind and copious rain
limp now and tattered on the
forest floor after their glorious
transformation from vibrant
greens to orange, gold and
crimson, now but a fleeting
memory. The ephemera of the
garden swallowed into the 
soil to sleep. Gone are the
summer songbirds. Gone the
year that was, now in holding
pattern, awaiting the winter
solstice and a new year.