Monday, September 17, 2007
Flags of flying geese, waving in the sky,
Heralding autumn, with cries loud and high.
Green leaves turning red, orange, and yellow,
Filtered sunshines nice, warm, and mellow.
Harvest time comes and goes, like a favored guest,
Farms look like patch work quilts, now laid out to rest.
Smoke from the chimneys, smells so very good,
Bundled tight we walk our quiet neighborhood.
Bonfires, parties, football, candy apple treat,
Red cheeks, cherry noses, and warm smiles greet.
Too soon autumn passes, gone is its brilliant blaze,
Only to be replaced by a cold winter daze.