The fluttering of the autumnal flags

clinging onto the last hope

of the now distant summer

brittle and brown they hang on

for dear life to their arboreal home.

The bark, it protects and guards the

living trunk against the bite of the

Northerly wind while the leaves

they suffer stoically the chilly breeze.

One final breath, and they are pulled

from their earthly space

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Autumn leaves through the front door. 

The frightened leaves of the cherry trees 

Flee with the aid of the wintery breeze 

Get caught up in the metal frame 

Of the iron gate that stands tight shut. 

Their autumnal hues and end of the year  

Brittleness complete the picture 

Of the end of one season  

but also the beginning of 

a time of renaissance. 

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