A flood of cool, brisk wind flows through the air
Reddening trees that were ever so fair
The towering world grows bitter, its tone cold
Upon the burning of its leaves, it turns gold
The conflagration roars like a jet of sparks
Amongst hills and forests, hamlets and parks
The fire shreds away the harlequin green
As it burns into the orange of a tangerine
The feathers bleed with a blazing maroon
Molting away into a billowing sand dune
They flutter down into a river of red and yellow
Gliding down the street in a slithering stream mellow
As the warm fruits ripen with a beautiful light
The season matures and the breeze starts to bite
From red to a frosty white is where they’ll go
As the fresh joy of the fire soon turns to woe
The inferno shall burn with the harvest of love
Through the air and our age in the world above
Time flies like a dove, from old to new, and new to old
Grey as ash, spreading in the wind, lifeless and cold
The beginning of life, brought forth into the light
Pushes the burning fire in the chilly, hazy night