Fall

A blast of air breaths cold 'round my head,

With rumors telling fall is near.

A sudden wave of icy dread—

I've never felt this weight of fear.

The wind pulls hard on a leaf decayed,

And plucks it from its homey branch.

It then descends into the glade

Where move or blow in plainly can't.

I fear my demise to match this fate,

To fall with leaves and decompose.

Such dreadful end I fiercely hate—

To die like leaves at summer's close.

But there's hope for me, though all should end,

For I, through Christ, will rise again.