I hear the Autumn singing, the varied carols I hear.
Those of nature, each one singing its own as it should be
mellow and simple.
The breeze singing his euphonious tunes as he
howls or sighs.
The trees singing as they make ready for their
deep slumber, or leave off to welcome winter.
The birds quietly singing what belongs to them in their nests,
the nestlings singing from their eggshells.
The people singing as they smile or hum across the street, their footsteps sing as the dry leaves crackle.
The flower's song, her petals on their way to the ground,
shriveling to bid farewell for now.
Mother nature singing changes, of the seasons at its due time.
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else.
The colors tell what belongs to the earth
---at September the Autumn
of the Equinox.
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
inspiration and skeleton poem from "I Hear America Singing" of Walt Whitman