Autumn Takes the Throne

The Autumn Lord comes,

sweeping in on chilly feet,

smelling of woodsmoke.

A crown of red leaves,

adorns Lord Autumn's proud head,

woven on dead sticks.

His robes cling to him,

all the colors of a fire,

coarse and fine at once.

The Autumn Lord grins,

and Summer's flowers whither,

much to her chagrin.

The Autumn Lord laughs,

and the air grows chill and dark,

full of strange spirits.

But Summer lingers,

barring the Autumn Lord's path,

her eyes hot and green.

The Autumn Lord waits,

with the patience of scarecrows,

and a scythe-like smile.

Eventually,

Summer slowly moves aside

and Autumn proceeds.

He sits on the throne,

Time and Nature at his back,

and begins his work.

The pace of life slows

as the nights slowly lengthen,

and the days grow short.

On the Throne of Time,

the Autumn Lord softly sighs,

and chill breezes stir.

He settles back now,

relaxing into the throne,

content with his place.