“Leaves” by William Wright Harris

All leaves are dying.

As we spin through our streets,
As they cling to their trees,

All leaves are dying.

We live enveloped in fear,
For them, winter e'er nears,

All leaves are dying.

As we hide in our kirks,*
They sleep upon the Earth,

All leaves are dying.

As we flee from death,
They rest on their beth,**

All leaves are dying.

As they spin in the wind,
We cling to an end,
for
All leaves are dying.





*Kirk: Church (Gaelic)
**Beth: Grave (Gaelic)