On the horizon grows a season’s robes.
Faint at first, her hem glides and slides
through crystal haze. A murmur, a caress follows.
She spins gossamers of quilted colours,
rich in seams, through the tranquil twilight
of autumn’s peace rusting in the breeze.
 
Remembrance lingers in the mellifluous sighs
that kiss-chase the departing whispers
of promises left traced on sentient trees.
She spindles beyond her barren years,
gathering sways of a thousand chandelier sequins
dancing in the wooded roof atop towering boughs.
 
An appearance awaits behind the lifting veil.
Dressed for the occasion, the new arrival leaves.