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Rites of Fall
by
Alice C. Bateman
The Bacchanalia, rites of fall
Come enter one, and enter all
Into a time of Bounty's reap
The summer's splendour Nature keeps
The Harvest Moon upon her throne
Shows us all we've ever known
Of summer's passage, slumber, spring
The autumn would not mean a thing
Without the greys and grace of age
Of winter's winds upon our page
We could not see the joy of spring
When the winds at last will bring
The promises of brand new Life
Making all the winter's strife
A bane to live with and endure
For one sweet bud, forever pure
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