And with each passing autumn he grew,
Of certain things to come he always knew,

As always, new wisdom and anecdotes,
And new directions for winds that never blew,

So quickly it left, just to come once more,
Quietly approaching with each and every dew,

As soon as he would think it far,
He’d find it stretched in his bed anew,

With divine discretion the autumn came,
And with it he found some dreams were true,

On the season’s winds, sweet smells he caught,
Love, Hope, Trust, and Virtue,

With patience he swam winter, spring, summer,
And silently autumn swum the days for him too.