Fall Waterfall Poem by David Welch

Glassy water streaming down
layered rocks, crumbly and brown,
mossy carpet clings nearby,
above withered leaves that lie;
red and orange, yellow fades,
the leafer has seen his day,
now they're back in the city,
the woods sink in lethargy.
Waiting for the snow to come.
birds are gone, no insect hum,
just this brook babbling on,
on its bed, twisting and long.
Hunter traipsing, some are near,
orange-clad and seeking deer,
nipping chill lays on the air,
gray times coming, cold despair,
water-spray now has a bite,
makes these falls a chilly sight,
not yet an icy pillar,
will be when the season turns,
melancholy in my mind
as we enter barren times…