Summer Mornings End Poem by David Taylor

White grass and russet trees
golden light on still green leaves
white trails of speeding jets
in a pale sky thinly lit.
Grey exhaust from misty cars
a fragile moon that weakly shines
the low bright sun fiercely rains
warming rays that blind my gaze.
Early autumn morning shines
speaking quietly to mankind
prepare for the winter months
take out warm clothes
hats and coats and scarves
ready for colder morning's starts.
The summers left for southern climes
and winter's waiting for its time
as the earth continues round
seasons come and then they go
and the sun it never did pretend
that the summer mornings wouldn't end.