Walking Through the Woods in October – Dusk

The sky’s hue touches the canopy,

purple and blue,

on the green and yellow

of an aging season’s head.

A lonely path unfolds before me,

woven through

the forest mellow,

where not a soul has tread.

The wind sings songs of coming winter,

a breeze’s chill,

briskly begotten,

from summer unto fall.

Marching through the silent hinter,

all is still,

a life forgotten,

as night comes for us all.

Author's Note

Not a huge fan of the last line - needed to rhyme something with "fall" while keeping in the theme of twilight/change. May change later. Suggestions welcome.