The Last Autumn

Thinking April cruelest
Has strangely ill prepared us
For a November that arrives
So lush and full of color

Come the first of November
And the greens and yellows
Still persist yielding
Precious little ground
To reds and browns

It's as if the signals
All got mixed
And rebirth
Has been coerced
To step over death's lines

And if Eliot was alive
Do you suppose he would
Change his mind
Seeing the life force
Thus bewitched by the
Likes of humankind

This autumn is unfolding

As if it's the last one

So regal in its bearing

Since early September

It's been a slow roller 

Leisurely building to 

This crescendo of color

Time it seems

No longer runs apace

Now that the shoreline

Of our final destination

 Has heaved into view
Each autumn comes
Tinged with the color
Of the last