I welcome summer flowers’ fading. The red bird flies with dreams of snow. Mild thoughts of Autumn Hours pervading, with weary, wilting weeks to go. A damp and windy Inner Calling, a Heart that sings sweet songs of Home. Thin Places, ever thinner drawing my soul to wander and to roam. I welcome summer flowers’ dying. I mourn not life’s seasons past. Come, O Autumn Hours’ sighing, and JOY which shall through Winter last.
