Autumn Morning.

Why does the sun,
Choose to shine now,
And yet it eluded us,
Over the summer?

The limping leaves,
Cling to green,
Like a parent clings,
To a small child,
At a road side.

The sun shines through,
Their last stand,
And blood speckled berries,
Shrivel to the ground,
Adding to the building mulch,
Under foot.