DM Babbit Poet Rhyme

Autumn Holidays

The sugar maple and the oak hold tight their leaves, 
   barely green, yellow tinged lines sway in the breeze. 
The plum glows in a deep dark purple dance 
   feathered soft and small along the branch. 
Another oak stands a mix yellow orange peach 
   with etchings red crimson pink burns out of reach.
Standing alone and in between the naked eye
   mere skeletons remain touching a clouded sky. 
Autumn holds true to reputation 
   producing a multitude cacophony of colors, dark unseen
   ominous lightly draped in emerald greens. 
The first and  quickly mid November hush
   comes the fall and holiday rush. 
Wind still calm yet wildly ready
   as blinding sun beats down hot and steady. 
Songbirds seem to no longer sing stray cry coos
   rising on the breeze as they seek shelter and others bid adieu. 
The weather soon to change 
  to a chilling wind and rain. 
Holidays break the lull of comforting fires
  with harried shopper rushing of want and desire. 
As quickly as it comes, just steps behind a party scene 
  of costumed revelry and gatherings, the seasons pass to dreams. 
Thanksgiving turkeys with cranberry sauce, potatoes and stuffing 
  waft the air as frosted glasses rise eyeing pie and whipped fluffing.
Families toast and taste the holidays, 
  with the memorable pictures taken holding out for Christmas plays.
The together that solidifies relations of the crew
  of grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, cousins too. 
Children yelling, crying, playing games to a hullabaloo of cheer
  but makes parents glad it comes once a year.
The gathering of faces and acquaintance celebrations
  folds a memory happening just a little more patient. 
That laughter and joy so endeared in time,
  a right of passage lost to happiness, tears and wine, 
missed yet fondly remembered 
  as time passes November into December.

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