The scarlet tinge of the blush of Autumn
Burning on the green dewy cheeks of leaves
Gossiping with the musky wind in sunshine
Is it the blush of shame reminiscing the rendezvous
Of lovers witnessed in the crispy night by moonlight?
Is it the blush of indignation on the face of Venus
As Adonis leaves for the world of Hades?
Is it the reflection of the mellow countenance
Of the sun resembling a ripe cherry at incandescent aurora?
Is it the vermilion of some widow stolen by the fates
And sprinkled heartlessly on the foliage?
Is it the colour of homage, from a deity’s altar
Blown all over the environs as a holy benediction?
Is it the blush of anger that flamed the face of Demeter
When Persephone left for the land of the dead?
Is it the imprint of the lips of a bride of a soldier
Left as a reverie when leaving for the battlefield?
Is it just a chameleon mood of Nature that blooms
With the changing season, colouring leaves like roses?
The speculations are varied and endless
Yet the beauty of the crimson shade of foliage
Should never be forgotten, searching for reasons
Of this spectacular scarlet blush…