"Autumn reaches past its bloom
A cold November afternoon
The trees stand bare against the sky
A solitary leaf floats by
The earth has changed, and changed again
From summer's green to autumn's red
And soon the wood will sink beneath
A swath of white, a winter sheathe
How beautifully each day is made
Each sunbeam cast and setting laid
By what great hand is such work done
My heart can think of only one."
Laura Jaworski