He dabs some orange and swipes some red
He splashes yellow and splatters brown
He uses life to conflict the dead
And applies the leaves to adorn the ground.
Breaths of air turn chilly and puddles of rain shudder,
Trees dance to the voice of the wind
And step to the symphony of the river
As the moon in the sky is dimmed.
With pinks, purples plus newly-shaped blues
And gold and pure-white draped in the sky
The beauty to border is not to amuse
But to show the power of whom I rely.