The cooling temps, of the mornings haze,
reminds creation that fall's in place.
Gentle breezes break loose their holds,
as the leaves begin, their dance of old.
This dance of nature, in bejeweled colors,
performed by limbs, of leaves that flutter.
The rhythmic gait, of their dying members,
delights spectator's, thru late November.
The delicate leaves, of autumn's dancers,
reminds all nature, that winter slumbers.
As though by rote, they narrate their scores,
to show in death, there's beauty more.
The jeweled dancers, red, orange, and gold,
show forth their splendor, like days of old.
Earth's shortened days, of September's sun,
blow sweet smells of embers, by mornings dawn.
This swirling dance of the autumn's dancers,
broadcast the lingering, cold nights of winter.
Declaring the harvest, for earth's work is done,
as sod must rest, till it's spring has sprung!
Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 10/12/2009