Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR (A Collection of Select Works... / The City That Never Sleeps)

On dusty fields of umber
Ther' be no trail nor trace of Summer
Octobers breath unfolds
A wreath of Autumn, solid gold

Smoked shadow, naked branch
Leaves like ticker-tape in dance
Trees stripped of their potpouri
Of majesty, an artists dream

Of a many hues and tones
The artists inspiration hones
Pictorial skills of imagescape
Depicting Autumn's scent and taste

Of hickory, acorns and rain
Harvests fertile spread of grain
Hallowed be these precious gifts
For soon the winds will shift

Winter bites with lions teeth
As surely Robert Frost would speak
Engaged by Autumn's golden wreath
'Til Autumns Death thus be complete