Autumn Speaks

At times my world is foggy and nippy rainy and droopy.. I am rolled in a niche of fickleness My colors and glory may be blurred with mist And my sun is shaded with grey Or may shine brightly with temperate heat I am wishing to stay long and nurture this barren land with my fecund desire Waking up in the first light of hope When the world is reluctant for colder grope I make your barn swells with harvest From my garden of bounty wrought By frenzy wind , gentle rain and stormy nights.. All these scourges must I meet? To strew your dreary trail with blazing foliage hues.. And turn your frigid-melancholic confine mirthful... As time unfolds, my trees may be bare and unsightly... But limbs are bold and strong, fit to stand the heaving harshness of winter... And have survived from muted desertion and silent struggle... Decayed proceeds of earth, I scatter to bring forth spring flowers and pleasure... My landscape is always an inspiration for lost and seekers... to poets and writers... I am always a delight in your wonder gape Mysterious, short-lived yet haunting...