Leavings

Leaves first turn red and yellow,
at last turn brown.

It's the time of autumnal bereavement.

Trees do not sing
and songbirds have since departed.

We're reduced to remembering the past.
or must dream the future.

We are all too prone to set goals
that in time erode
with snow and silence and boredom.

We need commitment to something: 
despair or freedom.