I've been reading poet's writings

especially about the Fall

how leaves are dropping

sad and wet

how everyone should droop their head

 

It's so depressing, so I've read

that summer's gone

and "God is dead"

and life is meaningless

and yet

my heart is happy.

What's with that?

 

I like the changes,

like the fall

like woolen sweaters

socks and all

I like the filtered, cooler sun

I like it when the furnace runs

 

The sky is bright, the night is brisk

the air is crisp, and so are trees

I think some poets tend to be this:

so much more depressed than me

 

And this is good

because I thought

I was down there pretty low

But others see life far more darkly

That's strangely comforting to know.

 

So bring it on, the falling winter

Snow and ice may pelt my door

My view is just a little better

Than I thought it was before

 

I'm not the worst, I'm not the bleakest

I'm not the most depressed, ah no.

I'm up, I'm down, I'm in between

and that's ok,

that's how I roll

 

I do admit most of the time

I contemplate life gloomily

This time, I will let others moan

and take themselves too seriously

 

But humans are just like the seasons

We laugh, we cry, we sit, we sing

I'm out of poetic endings

Winter's coming, so is spring