Fall Poem by Dennis Lange

The leaves, now liquid, pour from off the trees.
The summer bloom is past, a pause, and then a blast
Since winter rides upon the northern breeze.

The sun sleeps late and works less like the bees.
Cool is the morning air; the deer no longer bare.
The leaves, now liquid, pour from off the trees.

From harvest moon, earth reaps rich royalties;
The workers ply the fields and hurry out with yields.
Soon winter rides upon the northern breeze.

The calmness and the beauty bring an ease
To troubled souls who rest, and let their eyes be blest.
The leaves, now liquid, pour from off the trees.

We long for fall to be a photo - freeze;
Remain in this grand pose; it won't and each one knows
That winter rides upon the northern breeze.

The earth has opened brilliant galleries -
Like fireworks burst the blades, and then the color fades.
The leaves, now liquid, pour from off the trees.
Soon winter rides upon the northern breeze.