Poem

I’ve been working on this one for a couple of falls, playing the words through my head while I walk outside. The perfect second verse still evades me. Comments are welcome.

1. The World is its most beautiful
In Autumn’s perfect light,
That mellowed gold
Of days grown old
Like red wine dark as night.

2. The World strikes bright and beautiful [awkward; a mouthful.]
In Autumn’s amber light;
Green leaves are bled
Yellow and red
A burst of joyous sight [lame]

Or

The World strikes bright and beautiful
In Autumn’s amber light;
Green leaves turn gold,
Their secrets told [nice, right?]
On wind lalala –ight. [stuck]

[moving on]

3. The World turns soft and deeply sad
In Autumn’s low twilight;
In shadows long
The birds sing songs
Of a great Southward flight.