Separate autumn know your place,
No key to modern life.
All’s new in this new era
And you are relegated with the old.
Rust, ruin has no price.

Hide now your coloured hue,
Your harvest of good food.
No festival will peal
Its merriment to
Feast and garland you -
Refrigeration’s nice.

Your time we work to earn
Gregarious winter sun.
Alone with you we die.
So autumn weep your
Motley garments now
For solitude has past.

Written by Jackie Wearing - first published on openwriting.com, November 8, 2005