An ode to the Phoenix

Trees of a brilliant hue, frame the blue skies,

The weeping willow sweeps the waters,

Ripples on the lakefront, form and formless,

Witness to a magical process.

A blink, a heartbeat,

Now, the leaves a golden yellow,

The maples trees a brilliant red,

Southward geese only confirm,

That autumn’s in the air again.

Nature has a hidden meaning,

Birth, life, death and then again,

As the wheels of time roll on,

We hear a gentle promise:

‘You will rise from the ashes once more’.