Autumn Is Brewing Poem by John Schulte

Mahogany and maple trees
dressed like shivering clowns
rustle and crackle as scurrying
nutbrown squirrels nestle-in
a knot for a chilly night.
A trail of fire streams down the waterfall
disappearing into a crust of frost below.
The smoldering ash of the fireplace
glowers deep into the chimney,
angered that its embers are fading.
Inside, children grab golden pears
and crispy apples from the cornucopia,
all the cascading colors of the Fall
spilling out as the layered coats of leaves
outside cast off and swirl down the trunks,
becoming variegated tree aprons.
The squirrels find their buried seeds
as the children color with crayons
before taking their last nap
in the old woman's cabin.