Its Final Whisper...

The dawn brought forth the morning liquid
To quench the dying forest's thirst.
The jaded light awoke the hunger
That drew near the certain end.
The heavy breathing from dismay
Grew fainter by the minute
In time, the suffering would fade
Leaving inert each passing day.

Its final whisper could be heard
throughout the vast surrounding fields:
"Oh, summer! Why must you be such crude deserter?"
And vanished in the wind's brief sigh.

The season's final breeze had snuffed
The forest's dying lamentation
And Autumn, with its scenery so harlequin and stark
Embraced the forthcoming coronation.






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