A Rare Autumn

The leaves are falling,
In this autumnless part of the world;
Another death in cold sighs, calling.

Hopes are stalling,
Caught up with the wind and furled;
The leaves are falling.

And I, in my recalling
Stuck on my bed, curled;
Another death in cold sighs, calling.

Time in standstill is beguiling,
Yet life by the wind is swirled;
The leaves are falling.

All’s vain under the sun–nothing,
And many a truths to us are hurled;
Another death in cold sighs, calling.

Beauty of a tree, turned leafless, is dying;
Wisdom is now mere thoughts of the absurd.
The leaves are falling,
Another death in cold sighs, calling.

*a villanelle written March 13, 2013

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