Autumn
Warm hues fill the land,
dancing gaily in crisp
winds.
Poplars shiver naked,
silent until next spring.
Robins chatter of the
early bedtime sun.
"We bid farewell
summer home,
we'll be back next spring."
Poplars cast a sleepy
shadow,
upon the frosty ground.
Awaiting the shroud of
a cool blanket,
To clothe them 'til next
spring.
Sunny days have long since
past.
Autumn harvest give thanks.
The cellar boast its bounty.
'Til we sow again next
spring.
Copyright © M. Robinson 1998