The combines are in the fields, the leaves
are gone from the trees, and the cold
North wind blows across the land.

There is a sadness in the Autumn of
every year. The sadness of a loss I
can’t quite explain, but a loss
none the less.

And I can’t help thinking that this
will be the last. The last summer.
Now Winter comes, and it will last
forever. The long cold night.

But I know that spring will come again.
Life renewed, the sun will warm the land,
and we will awaken from our long sleep.
But the sadness is now, and I’m cold.