Sonnet, Golden Brown To Red

Time comes in slowly and sometimes too fast Instance to give to each sudden calling Moment’s ticking occasions some stalling Bringing forward every brimming life’s cast Pictures pending recollections from past Like departing wings from the air falling Summer’s leaving river is now sprawling Shrinking of the cascade into the vast No more exultant season forward to bring Listen to the beat of the autumnal coil As it comes closer with its weather blow Hear the old thoughts abide as the leaves sing Giving back their glory to the auburn soil Golden brown to red - in their splendid glow