In early Autumn, the leaves change dress.
As early chill in night time breeze caress
and cool to adorn with colored hue,
glazed by frost from morning dew.
Slowly the leaves float down.
They do their dance to the ground.
To bed they gently saunter,
They are the first signs of winter.
Soon covered under a blanket of white.
Critters, deeply imbedded, out of sight,
nestled, warmly on rainbow sheets,
yawn and stretch,
and dream the dreams of winter sleep.
The leaves, once born by nature’s hand,
brown and crumble at time’s command.
Then mixed with dirt and rain,
rabbit and deer dung,
dust to dust, feeds that from whence it came.
This poem is a varient of the Quintella, with
rhyme scheme of aabcb
© 6 Oct 2011 Charles Henderson