All across the yard leaves fly,
golden yet limp with rain;
A show of late-autumn's power,
as December stakes its claim.

Onyx clouds bundle together,
filled with frost and snow;
About to pass throughout the sky,
in painted streaks of indigo.

Grasses lay, no longer green,
yellowed and brown with time;
This season has its mellow moods,
as cardinals' songs wistfully rhyme.

Yet early December, I'll always remember,
the blossoming of a childlike prayer;
To cherish the joys of the holidays,
with blessings for peace everywhere.