I sadden at the autumn's gray retreat
Until a sudden thought rebukes my mind;
What if October found me colorblind?
How then could wizard and the woodland meet?
A turning season twines its bittersweet.
Would I have found, were there not fallen leaves,
This wren-wrought cubicle beneath the eaves,
Where greening songs and russet wings had beat?
Without the rains of autumn, would the fungi rise:
The corals, brackets, and the witches' broom,
The leaves of lilac with their dusty bloom --
Spores spent like powdered stars in milky skies?
Bare beauty is the autumn's fashion creed:
Making success out of going to seed.
~ Helen A. Wolfe
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