A path for one

It’s a slow autumn season again
Each leaf falls ever more so slowly
Giving more reason for my pen
To capture those that surround me
 
Through this walk I will not remain
To foresee what may lie ahead
I’m changing paths, maybe one mundane
That I may repose instead
 
Where the sun and moon are nonexistent
There are no stars nor groups of shrubs
The wiles of demise are imminent
For I, an ant, small but persistent
 
A perilous path- say none survived
And though I am far more nugatory
I choose to hold Death’s hand ‘til I arrive
Never to sigh and never to worry.