Fallen Colors

When Fall runs out of ink
and Winter is eager to cover
all the million fallen colors
With no remorse and no bother
A storm of birds with no hues
Will give all the needed clues
That Death sooner rather
than later will claim her dues
Air, water, fire, the recalling soil,
Sacred pathways to bring us home
Where no one will ever be left alone
Where we'll all be meandering as one
And lies are finally none and gone