The Killing Frost


I must confess trepidation,
When Fall begins to fall,
Do we count the cost
Of the killing frost,
Or do we revel in the riot
Of restless red leaves?

A chill falls on the fairway,
Your breath hangs in the air,
But shall I celebrate the denouement
Or should I even care?
For the killing frost is inevitable
Silently slaying summer.

It’s one thing to age in a cycle
And bounce right back in the Spring
But alas that’s the story of Nature
But not of everything.
For humans, our lives are linear
Straight lines with a period at the end.

Yes the killing frost is a harbinger
Of quick decay and death
So all our seconds are precious
And singular is every breath.
Revelry meets its requiem
The day the music dies.

Yet imagine a line extended
From here to eternity.
Imagine a life everlasting
Much longer than a seasonal tree
Imagine human destiny is different
Than Nature, after all.

Let the killing frost do its deadly worst

For as far as the eye can see,
But the sun will rise in victory
And death shall cease to be
For there is a season after Fall,
Not the Winter of our discontent,

It’s the season of resurrection
It comes right after Lent.

BW3 10/7/16

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