Autumn's Farewell

Upon the hills, a mist descends,
A shroud of grey and white;
The world below, in silence sleeps,
Beneath the fading light.
The trees stand stark, their branches bare,
Against the somber sky;
A lonely call, a raven's cry,
As evening passes by.
The wind whispers through vacant fields,
A mournful, chilling sound;
And shadows lengthen, dark and deep,
Upon the frozen ground.
The hearth's warm glow, a distant sight,
A beacon in the gloom;
Yet nature's hold, so stark and cold,
Envelops all in tomb.