Autumn Sings While The Trees Weep Tears Of Red And Gold Poem by Christopher McInnes

So, the black crows
fly among the tumbling stalks
of gold dusted wheat,
like bowls thrown by a lazy god
and the trees stand embarrassed
on the edges of the autumned fields,
shivering in modesty as they fight
to keep their leafy skirts round twig-thin bodies.
Plaintive, they cry ruddy tears
and tremble at the thought
of the coming frosts.
Their year is ending now
and none but the dumb hills
stand by them in their loneliness.
There will be a spring for some
and some will not withstand the winter’s spite.
But come what may, for all,
their destiny is the lyric of nature’s song
and their fate will be danced out to its music.