The wind is fresh
Carrying the scents of life and death.
While from a tree
The autumn leaves are falling on me.
I lose myself in rhymes
Of passing time
And others who once stood
In autumn’s wood.
My friend collects acorns from leaf-strewn lawns
Hoping that Oaks may grow.
Others may see the fully grown tree.
While we will not know.
K Morris - Poet 
Autumn woke the philosopher in you again, Kevin! Great done! Best wishes, Michael
Thank you, Michael. Autumn is, I think my favourite season of the year. I am pleased you liked my poem.
Best wishes. Kevin
This is a beautifully contemplative and poignant poem. It captures the essence of autumn as a season of simultaneous decay and hope, personal reflection and collective continuity.
The contrast between the speaker, who loses themselves in thoughts of the past, and the friend, who actively plants for a future they will never see, is particularly powerful. This adds a layer of selfless faith to the poem’s meditation on transience.
The closing lines—”While we will not know”—are gracefully humble, accepting the limits of an individual life while acknowledging our small, vital role in a larger cycle. A thoughtful and moving piece.
Thank you for your thoughtful and kind words on my poem. Which are much appreciated.
I love your conjuring of autumn and the last two lines, as always, reminding us of our mortality!
Thank you. I’m delighted you like my poem.
Autumn does seem to be a season that brings deep thoughts. I love your poem, Kevin.
Thank you, Vivienne. At the age of 56 I feel rather close to autumn! I’m so pleased you love my poem.