It is a travesty a madness
this unjust adulation of flowers in bloom
and of the transient beauty of the moon
for petals and trees without leaves cannot survive
and a moonlit night empty of the trees
and the uncelebrated leaves
is simply white

Still the trees must abandon their fallen leaves
only to call them back over and over
trees without leaves are barren and dry
yet clinging to their shadows
the leaves, from their trees are harshly cast
falling in silence in the cold moonlight

Birds cry mournfully into the darkness
in their efforts to stir the listless leaves
still clinging to life upon their trees
and in return the sorrowful leaves
serenade the treacherous night
despite their constant pain
in their passage between life and death
they dance in the light of the moon
whispering songs with their final breaths

The pale ghost of all that we know
circles around the leafless trees
asking the question
not wanting the answer
that could be found in the fallen leaves
the fragrance of despair permeates everywhere
and death stalks everything
her tattered cloak flapping in the ominous wind

The moon basks in her vain beauty
as the flowers fade and the trees weep
impervious to the loss of the leaves
the cycle repeats and repeats
emptiness and desolation
descend in a quiet hush
as everything is slipping away
and the threads unravel again

© Ann Bagnall

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