Autumn Centro

By Holly McClure

Beneath the blue, dim vault of night, 

Where Nature’s children curl themselves to sleep 

In the midst of grieving trees and withering leaves. 

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, 

And earth is silent as it is black. 

Keeping an eye on the sleepers, you 

Stretched across the night sky, 

Bedded in this unwarmed oblivion 

Thus proving my fidelity. 

Rest—and it is Autumn.