R E M E M B R A N C E
By Indira Sinton
Autumn closes – a war ends;
in the air a chill – apprehension -
winter ahead - long, cold,
trees stark - nations stripped;
the leaves once fresh, young, brave,
are all gone now - fallen to the ground.
We, pensive in remembrance of their beauty,
are grieved at the sadness of their death,
and for a moment,
of our own bareness.
Soon spring will return – new foliage,
until the next inexorable fall.
For now, leaves lie still;
imminent is the harsh hiver.
We remember - we are wise;
there is nothing else to warm
our tired cold minds.
Copyright © 1987 Indira Sinton
Originally published in Georgian Bay Today