From softly faded remnants of summer's showy bloom,
Come musings of the garden and earthy rich perfume.
The luscious rolling meadow has turned to gentle buff,
The goldenrod and grasses are dry and topped with fluff.
Crooked little apple trees have loosed their scarlet charms,
Left them in the grassy care of Mother Nature's arms.
It's time for thoughtful respite while earth invents a plan,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem