Autumn Grace

Daylight sleeps at sunset’s yawn,
Lulled by amber’s tranquil song.
Footfalls crack crisp undergrowth,
Biting wind, one’s neck does loathe.
Leaves roll through, past wooded smoke,
On Nectar’s cider-honeyed cloak.
Fall adorns her languid steps
from Demeter’s sorrowed depths
Hunter seeks what gathered lost
before Winter’s whisper frost.
All is calm, and silent still
As Autumn’s hearth warms wicked chill.

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