Every word has been spoken

 

 

After the rains stop and the summer dissolves

Under a light blue sky soft breezes slide and revolve

Trees lining the garden path prepare to face the fall

Of slow yellow leaves and wait for the winter’s call

Soon northern winds will spray thick mist in the air

And morning dew will cling to the dead grass as silver crown

 

 

Days are getting shorter, throwing early long

Mystique shadows on the fallen foliage

Now the quiet forest observes the birds fly away

Clouds waltz, a cold wind sings the old song

And its rhythm resonates in my mind

The sunset spreads on blue hills the colors of autumn time.

 

Paolo Driussi