The Shedding
The pulse of summer gets old and weak
from the climbing up high to Aesta’s Peak,
our Autumn Goddess sporting her fading green
with her limbs all smothered in a hoary cream.
She kisses goodbye to the proud standing trees
in their gowns in green that flow in the breeze.
They shed their emeralds for the impending cold
as autumn nears in time for the snow.
As she succumbs to the grips of Boreal,
she fades away until his summery call.
I wrote this for the Belt and Beyond
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