What Will I Speak Of?
How great the seasons I have been blessed with
Or how dark the night?
Of Autumn mornings - forgiving and brisk
And tempered with yellow heat
Or how summer had fled
without a promise?
And the leaves how they danced off the breeze
light - and lifting the dawn
Or how brown and brittle they had grown
And withered too?
And how the music had traced the edges of humble days
and given them souls
or how the din now crowds the day
heavy and crass?
And about us -
What gratitude will remain for the greatest gifts?
Will the heart for thanks linger
or wither beneath the darkened leaves?
As cold and as broken
