Autumn

by Glenn Christman

And a time of grief came upon the land
For it was Autumn
And the fields were dying
Having produced their crops
Trees hanging fruit
Leaves withering
It was time to store the bounty
But also time to discard that which could not be used
As the contraction of winter
Was on the horizon
The days were getting shorter
The driving force of the sun weakening
And with it the spirit
Was felt slipping away
The glee of having, and making connections
Overshadowed by the thought of saying good-bye
The sensation of being full
By the knowing there may not be enough