cool crisp air
shows only hilltops
clouds roll low
through the valley
fanned by flocks
of silhouette birds
fields slowly emerge
tasseled stalks, orange gourds
ready for the harvest
other colors then the greens
break out in different spots
summers end brings thoughts
of cold which comes too soon
but yet some beauty still awaits
before the still cold white
all the rainbow but the blues
comes crashing to the ground
the smell of russet leaves
an air of reminiscence
the sound a shuffle makes
through knee high brown
all hands at work to rake
and jump and fill past full
find the perfect pumpkin
in a field full of them
yet one stands out
ready for the slaughter
with a jagged smile