Autumn

Wearily I tread the walk,
the sun sits low upon the day.
I slowly turn and face the west,
the air is cool, the summer flies.

Within the tree a ring of growth,
the sum of this past summer's pay.
Although hard won amid the drought,
gratitude is the tree's reply.

Much like the tree my work is hard,
a little progress every day.
A narrow ring of growth is mine,
and gratitude is my reply.

Tubal