Autumn comes to the forest
In an array of splendor, color and scent
Green is no longer dominant, but gold
And grey, russet and amber
Leaves of the deciduous trees bright
With all the remembered yellow of summer sunshine
Dimmer now but shining from the leaves
In one dying display of color
And the ferns and low bushes,
Closer to the moss dampened floor
Glow of rust and deep amber, as they curl inward
To begin their winter slumber
The rich browns and grey of damp trunks,
Stolid and heavy in the mist
Old trees cut and stacked for winter fires
And the remaining grasses gone gold
Complete the scene with the steady
Deep and abiding green of hemlock and pine
Drawing moisture from the mist
Will endure
When the mist and warm air are gone
And all other colors, fled with the fickle songbirds
Away, away from impending winter, desolation and cold
Still, the ancient trees will stand
Burdened with snow, shaken by winter storms,
Yet green, deep ever green
As we huddle inside, under blankets and sweaters
Trusting its promise
That spring, and color
Will some day return