Autumn Closure
The leaves are losing their greenery, turning to yellow gold.
They gently cascade covering the green earth below.
The land becomes a devoid , colorless, landscape.
Along the fields, the harvest already cut.
The mustard seed with it's vibrant yellow, harvested.
The wheat, barley and rye still remain out on the fields.
The harvest season was wet, it became water logged.
Drowning the plants, as they try to mature.
The birds are flying south to warmer habitat.
Already gone are the robins, black birds and crows.
Here to endure the winter season, are the chickadees.
The morning melodies , no longer heard.
The annual weeds are dispersing their seeds,
To re generate in the next spring.
Drifting, shifting they migrate on the wind,
Scattering their seeds upon rocks and crevices.
The late fall winds dance across the grasses,
Now looking like yellowing straw.
The land becomes a grave for dormant life,
Only lie in a embryo state till spring.
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