What’s the point of autumn, and why do things grow old?

Why can’t summer last all year, why does it get so cold?

Wouldn’t it be better if the light nights lasted all year,

If all the leaves stayed green and flowers didn’t disappear?

 

Why do we need a season when everything withers and dies?

Time passes and we can’t stop it, no matter how hard we try.

What once was growing decays, fading away into dust,

Vibrant summer hues to brown, burnt orange and rust.

 

Autumn is decline, a steady slowing down,

Nights drawing in,

Lamps lit,

Lie low.

 

No.

 

Not so.

Harvest,

A gathering in,

Autumn thrives, the thankful time.

 

The season which serves to remind us that dying isn’t the end,

That there is a life everlasting for those who are willing to tend

Their crops and their fields and their thoughts and their soul,

The chattels that matter, that make them whole.

 

You sow and you reap, you receive your reward,

The fruits of that labour hard won.

The bounty of autumn is the bounty of life

So give thanks to the Father and Son.