Summer stands in shadows, silent.
She has reasons
Here in Autumn's dark-ning chill,
Here at the cleaving of the Seasons...
Some harvest in; some still to go
Before the staying cold,
Before the piling snow.

Chill in the air; hesitation in the breath...
Footsteps pounding on the hardening street,
A steaming sprite an opened door escapes.
Everywhere a tucking in, a tucking up,
A nervous shrug, a cautious smile denies
Winter's coming blast of cold.

Scent of wood smoke
Flares the nostrils
Evokes childhood rites,
Calls stragglers to the burning leaves.