light of fall

We may fairly say it is autumn
When the woodlands are well lit.
We may even name the brilliance
Oak, Poplar, Sassafras, Maple.
But names are superfluous.

As we walk, we may notice
It gets lighter inside the woods.
A kaleidoscopic cathedral of color
Filled with sublime joy and wonder.
But words are barely any worth.

As the Earth orbits, the cycle repeats
Perfectly, in a language unspoken.
And we are like the leaves
Filled with the light
And beauty.