Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as from far,
as though above were withering farthest gardens;
they fall with a denying attitude.
And night by night, down into solitude,
the heavy earth falls far from every star.
We are all falling. This hand's falling too –
all have this falling sickness none withstands.
And yet there's One whose gently-holding hands
this universal falling can't fall through.