Sonnet, Golden Brown To Red

Time comes in slowly and sometimes too fast
Instance to give to each sudden calling
Moment’s ticking occasions some stalling
Bringing forward every brimming life’s cast
Pictures pending recollections from past
Like departing wings from the air falling
Summer’s leaving river is now sprawling
Shrinking of the cascade into the vast

No more exultant season forward to bring
Listen to the beat of the autumnal coil
As it comes closer with its weather blow
Hear the old thoughts abide as the leaves sing
Giving back their glory to the auburn soil
Golden brown to red - in their splendid glow

by Peter S. Quinn

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