The Four Sisters

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Autumn was not like Summer,

She wasn’t bold nor bright,

She was subtle and many hues of light and dark.

Autumn didn’t have that cold cold draught of Winter,

She was a soft breeze,

The chill behind the sun,

The visible breath of air before the coming of night.

Autumn was closer to Spring,

in every sight and sound,

But different in every feel and smell.

Spring was light and unpredictable,

Autumn was constant and reliable,

Spring was the feeling of life, the sense of production,

Autumn was the graceful death, the eloquent dry.

Autumn was alone,

She could stand unaided,

Everyone of her sisters were a beginning,

Autumn was the end.

Image by Kmark
Courtesy of creative commons