It’s brightly fallen
this random rich clothing
on the welcoming ground:
the bright glister of gold
echoing sharp sunlight
of shortening days.
More regal than faux red carpet,
a crown beneath my feet:
the pre-Advent promise of a King
in the waiting wings
of the closing of the year.
A short-lived hosanna of Autumn,
before greying to shroud
in the clench of unwelcome Winter
and the uninvited bite
of reality
when the King
like these trees is stripped.
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