Autumn
Leaves beyond scarlet and orange,
Now sienna, umbre, and ochre,
Drift into piles against the fence
As autumn reaches to winter,
And frost blackens the last greens
Left in the barren waste of garden.
But in the air, the aromas of fall,
Smoke of bonfires, apples roasting,
Cinnamon smell of holiday baking.
Pots of chrysanthemums catch the eye,
And toothy pumpkins with yellow eyes
Leer at passersby from porch steps.
Let the cold come – we know it will,
But for now we’ll breathe the frosty air
And roll in leaf piles on the lawn
‘Til cheeks are red and eyes are bright.
Later, inside, we’ll drink steaming cocoa
And roast marshmallows by the fire.
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