The path through the woods,
Deer run everyday,
Sharing much beauty,
Never a word they say.
Colorful leaves falling,
Cooler air, they can not bare,
Decorating the sky,
As I look out my window, and stare.
Squirrels gathering nuts,
Storing for their winter needs,
Many birds have flown south,
Others stay searching for feed.
The bright sun in the sky,
A blessing, on this fall day,
As the season of winter,
Approaches our way.
Tom Maxwell copyright 11/22/2006 A.D.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem