Autumn

The day breaks slowly on the hills of green

Everything turned strangely, oddly quiet

The wind that blusters is strangely keen.

A dance, hypnotic; long, yet savour it

The leaves are moved, their path unbroken now

The stillness stops, my heart has now left the pit.

A sense of hope, a sense of fear, a bough

Cracks like fire, burning so bright, a bird

Cozied in its nest, snuggles down somehow.

A change, some things remain, I must be heard

I must be free.  A timed renaissance, I

Must change my heart, must build my soul anew.

As old as the oak, as this oak tree grew

What I know now is not then what I knew.