AUTUMN
You fluttering leaves

Of the aspen trees!

The wind makes you clatter

Like the rains that patter,

But your veins are dry at your season’s end,

Then the rain wets you ‘til autumn’s end.

You will be buried by the snow:

By the rain which will have become the snow.

The rain gave you life,

But, now, it coldly buries your life.

Sometimes the rain can be like some friends:

Sometimes warm, sometimes cold, but staying with me ‘til my end.

Cy, 1997?