April Poem-A-Day Challenge  Day 24

prompt: "auto"

Automatically, I want to write
Autumn, the season when, in
some countries, leaves 

auto-destruct, bled of all green
and shed from trees like scurf.
This Autumn we remember

boys who were used as
automatons, with machinery
that ought not to have been

invented, since it resembles
the death rattle, and caused
the dead to rain, cold, upon

country now turned into
memorial green, or seemingly
untouched, under autobahns.