The doctor was oppressed by my blood
He read it whenever he could
But he tried tea leaves instead
As he ate some fried bread.
And his fate is foretold well and good.
Fortune may favor the brave
And neglect those who never make waves.
But in the middle we hope
To have just enough scope
For the knowledge our hearts and souls crave.
Autumn is an ambiguous time.
Her darkness is hard on the mind.
But the red leaves in sunshine
Transform us enough times.
We give thanks for the stunning designs.
How my heart sings 