Echoing cicada calls,
shatter the deafening silence,
brown oak tree leaves flutter to the ground,
northern winds slowly begin to blow.

A cold front oozes in from the north,
escorting fall out the door,
snowflakes cover the ground behind it,
as it leaves its mark upon the countryside.

Squirrels scramble hiding last minute nuts,
a covey of bobwhites scurry by headed for shelter,
they disappear into the tall grass on the fenceline,
the trees, begin to sway in earnest, as the breeze changes.

Gray clouds, blot out the sun,
a blue feeling falls across my soul,
temperature dropping quickly to near freezing,
a barn owl, flies from tree to tree, looking for a hollow.

My front porch becomes inhospitable,
blowing snow begins to pile,
I retreat inside, a fire already burning,
I feed it some wood and watch winter take hold.