Autumn II

Falling leaves of brown and red
Falling to the ground in endless cascades
They are dry they are dead
Autumn indeed
With its gentle misty showers
Autumn rain and promise of winter
Among the trees
The dryads dwell
Full well knowing
That sleep is near
For them to retire to deepest shade
Until winter is gone
And spring draws near
As gusts of cold wind
Blasts the glade
There they flee to be seen no more
Until and when spring flowers bloom
Sing them, the dryads their songs once more.