The leaves below my town have not
Yet lain in October blood, but
Anticipation of this morbid
Celebration colors our every day,
As we watch the green give way
To the colorful deconstruction of
Life as photosynthesis ceases.

Crowds come from far away
To witness the extraordinary coloration
Of death as it descends on mountain
And meadow to presage cold
Capture of all living things as they
Bow in dry brown death to the
Forces that bury them in earth.

I mourn and celebrate this
Season of life as Dylan did,
Yet not without hope beyond
The cathedrals of bright sunlit
Mornings that call me to see
The Daystar that lit within me
A morning beyond this town of mine.