by Michelle King
“Autumn is a second Spring when every leaf is a flower.” —Albert Camus
The rustling gold of towering trees
Within a starlit canopy
Beneath the waves of ink.
And scarlet leaves slept at the brink
Of sparkling puddles,
And I think
The leaves reflected moonlight.
Autumn walked beside me there,
Robed in raindrops, young and fair.
A mournful song of red,
Awoke the stars, till overhead
A cosmic chorus
The trees were dipped in moonlight.
As in a dream, we walked the hill;
I drank it in. I listened, still.
Of mourning filled my head
Till, rising softly overhead,
The cosmic chorus,
And morning melted moonlight.
Michelle King’s home is in the hills of Pennsylvania. She travels the world through literature and a myriad of thoughts.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy