Dying Grass Moon

As the sun is setting in my life, as the colors go dark, as the night grows cold, as I’m getting old, and there’s nothing I can do about it, something inside me wants to just shout it, I’m glad to have lived, and then as I find myself walking in skeletal Autumn, walking on old dry leaves, it stirs emotion, and I get the notion that I’m a walking skeleton moving through the remains of Summer, in the month of the dying grass moon, aware, like the seasons,  I will be gone all too soon.