A bright morning moon

Frost hugs the ground

Trees mostly bare

And mist lingers

Birds barely singing

A slow dawn

Winter is coming

I rustle through thousands of falling leaves

Their autumn colours beneath my feet

And I look up at the trees standing tall

Who find it easy to let their leaves fall

They don’t cling on to what has been

Instead, they sleep until the spring

When new hope begins and their leaf buds form

Another spring, another dawn