Weep not for the ephemeral fall she said,
For the herald of the coming winter,
For the leaves of nameless colors,
Dancing on the chill autumn wind,
And carpeting the ground as a blanket.
Weep not for the ephemeral fall she said,
For the scent of damp leaves filling your lungs,
For the bounty of the harvest as the vines wither,
Drooping stalks and dying flowers,
Save the hardy few too bright in the somber landscape.
Weep not for the ephemeral fall she said,
For the delighted and terrified screams of children,
For the moans and creaks of skeletal trees,
Crunching leaves underfoot hiding life beneath,
And the sighing of the wind like a final breath.
Weep not for the ephemeral fall she said,
For the celebrations of death around the world,
For the spirits hung in trees and in the carvings of jack 'o' lanterns,
Whispering faces in the fog of morning and the misty dusk,
All beauty and horror alike must come to an end.