Terry Trainor Poet Prose Poetry

Autumn Has Gone

Autumn is on its way he is leaving us to endure cold damp and wet times,
The trees have portrayed their last piece of grandeur and the leaves go,
It's the end of the richest and warmest colors the landscape unrivaled,
The delight of walking through woods and over long fields is disappearing,
So is the joy of watching the wind driving the many tinted leaves before it,
Gone treading on rustling leaves in still glades the language of the season,
The hops have been gathered and the poor city people's holidays are now gone,
The farmers are busy turning up the soil with his plough ready for next year,
The ditches and the meadows are being banked up in the many muddy old fields,
Gathering, storing potatoes, carrots, beet-root and Swedish turnips finished,
And the orchards are cleared of their fruit the old bruised apples for cider.

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