Winterwood

 winterwood
With the Autumn breeze the tree colors turn,
Forests become a rainbow of shimmering hues,
Yellows and purples and reds vie with the greens,
In a geometry sublime, intricate beyond our ken,
To create a symphony of forms of endless beauty.
Nature dresses in her most noble garb,
To be worthy of being present before the Majestic King,
To whom all things do return.
And return it does as its colors diminish,
As hues fade away into a subtle colorlessness,
Which yet all colors contains, a death which is also new life.