Whispers of Autumn

The trees stand tall, in solemn grace,

Their branches tracing skyward space.

Leaves like embers, fiery, bright,

Dance in the wind, a fleeting light.

Autumn descends with a golden sigh,

A painter’s brush across the sky.

Crimson, amber, russet, and gold,

Stories of summer quietly told.

The maples glow with inner fire,

Their crowns a choir of warm desire.

Oaks wear robes of amber hue,

Guardians of the forest, steadfast and true.

A gentle wind stirs the forest floor,

Whispering secrets from days of yore.

Leaves tremble softly, then take their flight,

Spinning, twirling in fading light.

I walk beneath this cathedral of trees,

Their rustling whispers carried by the breeze.

Every branch a memory, every leaf a song,

In autumn’s embrace, I feel I belong.

The birch stands pale with silvered bark,

A sentinel against the fading dark.

Its leaves like lanterns, small and bright,

Flicker softly in the coming night.

Crisp air carries the scent of pine,

Mixed with the decay of the autumn vine.

Moss carpets the roots, damp and deep,

Where shadows gather, and foxes sleep.

I see the squirrels, busy and spry,

Hoarding treasures beneath the sky.

Acorns like jewels in earthy beds,

Autumn’s promise in their heads.

Sunlight filters in amber streams,

Turning the forest into a place of dreams.

Each step I take releases a sigh,

Of leaves crushed softly as they lie.

The wind hums low, a melancholy tune,

A lullaby sung to the silver moon.

Branches sway like dancers in line,

In rhythm with autumn, serene and divine.

The chestnut tree, broad and wise,

Lets fall its bounty beneath the skies.

Its sturdy limbs, reaching far and wide,

Offer shelter where small creatures hide.

I pause by a willow, draped in gold,

Its drooping leaves, delicate and bold.

It bends to the earth, a humble bow,

Acknowledging the season, the here and now.

The days grow short, the nights stretch long,

And yet the forest hums a steady song.

Crisp mornings wrapped in mist and dew,

Awake the spirit, ancient and true.

Every leaf that falls, a story released,

Of summer’s warmth and life’s feast.

Yet even in falling, there is grace,

A promise of rest, a slowing pace.

The forest floor is a quilt of fire,

Each leaf a note in autumn’s lyre.

The rustle and crackle beneath my feet,

Compose a symphony both soft and sweet.

Birds wheel and call in the cooling air,

Their shadows fleeting, light as prayer.

Migration whispers in the sky,

A lesson in leaving, a soft goodbye.

The elder trees, gnarled and grand,

Hold history in their steadfast stand.

Rings upon rings, the ages kept,

Silent witnesses while the world slept.

I touch the bark, rough and worn,

Feeling the pulse of life reborn.

The veins of the tree, the flow of time,

The quiet rhythm, almost a rhyme.

Evening falls with a purple hue,

And stars emerge, a sparkling crew.

The forest sighs in twilight’s glow,

A whispered promise of winter’s snow.

Yet tonight, the autumn reigns supreme,

Its magic woven into every dream.

I sit beneath a canopy of flame,

Feeling the trees call out my name.

The oak, the maple, the ash, the pine,

All entwined in a sacred line.

They teach of patience, of letting go,

Of the beauty in change, in ebb and flow.

Rain may come and winds may wail,

Yet the trees endure, they do not fail.

Roots deep in earth, hearts reaching high,

They greet each season, each changing sky.

And I, a wanderer through this golden sea,

Learn the quiet wisdom of each tree.

How to bend but not break, how to fall but rise,

How to see the world through autumn’s eyes.

Evening deepens, the horizon bleeds,

The last sun kisses the amber reeds.

A hush descends, soft and slow,

Autumn’s lullaby, a gentle flow.

I rise to leave, yet linger still,

Drawn by the forest, the autumn thrill.

For every tree, in leaf or bare,

Holds a story I can only share.

The world outside may rush and roar,

But here, among the trees, I soar.

Their whispers carry, soft and free,

Secrets of life, eternity.

Autumn and tree, entwined in grace,

A timeless dance, a sacred space.

And as I walk, I hear it clear:

The song of the trees, forever near.