Leaves tinged with blackened rot
My arms are wilted, leering down
Time has torn my once-verdant gown
To shreds, threads, all I have got
Are the wisps of string,
clinging ever desperate
Against a fate that seems
so devastatingly desolate.

Spring’s flyers have all flown their nests
And bears have wakened from their rests
Once I was shelter for all woodland critter
But now, to other great guardians they skitter
For this final year is coming to a close...