Autumn-Witch

Once again autumn burns like a witch at the stake in the flame,
Inquisitor-streetsweepers in robes of bright orange and scarlet.
Bright yellow leaf-words are scattered to ash in her wake,
Knowing well they were never once spoken in vain or unheard.

The leaves that are falling beneath the feet of the living,
The leaves that sometimes fly inside through open windows.
The leaves that we notice but instantly find we've forgotten,
The leaves that so quietly vanish away in the grass.

Scattered to ash, all the yellowing leaf-words will fly,
Spread across the wide world and still find a place to land somewhere.
Autumn-witch, hopelessly wise, once again proves herself right,
Taking with her all the sins of the overburned summer.

The leaves that are falling beneath the feet of the living,
The leaves that sometimes fly inside through open windows.
The leaves that we notice but instantly find we've forgotten,
The leaves that so quietly vanish away in the grass.

Autumn-witch is departing, no grudge held against humankind,
Releasing her sins like a saint standing still before death.
She says farewell to the world without fuss, without grand design,
Only to come again in the world's everlasting turning.

The leaves that are falling beneath the feet of the living,
The leaves that sometimes fly inside through open windows.
The leaves that we notice but instantly find we've forgotten,
The leaves that so quietly vanish away in the grass.

Vanish away in the grass...
Silently vanish away...
Autumn-witch...