Today the sun fires out from further away
with a strained burn traveling
through a moist sky
Arriving with enough energy to
play with the trees

Light rides along the ripples of a lazy river as
Koi float between the reflections of the
branches above to 

cruise with the clouds.

Late afternoon shadows grow silent as a
savage chill slowly devours the remains of the
dry summers stubborn heat.

Organic designs rust over in a brilliant decline.
The scent of a rising storm rushes into
a deep breath on a harsh breeze that

rustles the rain toasted leaves of autumn.

It is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
And waltzes with her prince, The Fall Wind.
But when the clock strikes twelve,
Winter comes along with her December and January Winds,
Snatching up Autumn’s bright apparel
And clothing her in nothing but somber tatters.
Autumn keeps quiet, until the first rays
Of Spring’s long awaited sunshine
Touches the depths of Winter’s dark dungeon.
Autumn is showered with Spring’s rain,
And is coaxed into fashioning a new dress
With the same warm, golden tones of color,
But, this time, in a different pattern.
It is Summer’s sunshine, now, that assists Autumn,
With an occasional July thunderstorm to help form the new dress.
August passes by to give his opinion, and Autumn is finally ready.
For it is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
to waltz with her prince, The Fall Wind.