Ephemera (Buck)/The Falling Leaves

by Mitchell Starrett Buck

THE FALLING LEAVES

When the sun sets all too soon beyond the mountains and the western skies are flooded with pallid crimson:

When the trees stand naked and black against the afterglow and the evening star shines high above the gathering mists of twilight:

When the earth is chilled by sweeping winds: when the water of the pools lies dead and silent and the last leaves drop, one by one, from the trees:

The naiads forsake the springs, the syrinx of the satyrs is heard no more, and the dryads, deep in the hearts of the trees, whimper and wrap themselves in the shelter of their long, dark hair.

And I—I stand alone in the vast solitude—and tremble.