As embers of the summer quietly smoulder,
Still glowing, but a slow, less fierce heat.
Fast approaching, nearly on my shoulder
Comes the crunch of autumn's swifter feet.
Greens are turning paler, into golden,
Blue skies smudged with racing clouds of grey.
Poppies toss their clouts with gay abandon,
Their scarlet petals falling on the clay.
Yet, autumn brings her own supply of treasure
To ease us into winter's harsh embrace.
Gifts of fruits and seeds, she sends with pleasure,
showered on the earth with golden grace.
So wish farewell to summer's gentle hand,
And watch while autumn decorates the land.