Fall Downfall

Not this year! No brilliant hues –
no harvest fest of flaming color;
no bright, vivid celebration.
Summer's wake is filled with dolor –
dingy scenes of devastation;
drought and heat all life subdues.

Gone the splendid tree-lined nave;
gone that glorious stained-glass glow
(eulogies for vibrant life
too soon to die in swirling snow)
replaced by signs of autumn’s strife,
a dirge to honor summer’s grave.

Somber shades predominate;
russet, rust, mahogany,
sepia (snapshots of the dead)
now paint the thinning canopy,
few leaves remaining overhead –             
nothing here to celebrate.

No ballets now, no symphony.
Swirling leaves that danced before                 
fall en masse, muddy raindrops,
straight from life to death; no more
that final blaze of glory stops
our breath and starts epiphany.

Flamboyant? No. Serene? Yes.
More like Rembrandt, less like Klee –
as aging varnish limits range,
earthy shades of sand and clay
merge into a melange strange,
soothing tones for life’s distress.


Written Oct 1998 by David L Brungart - © Copyright