Autumn Wigs
Autumn burnishes furry heads,
even we, who however scant our hair
flourish in this wind-blown leafy.
No room for stray gray wisps;
our locks turn golden brown,
crown our minds with crinkly laurels.
Mr. Groundhog looks pretty spiffy
in his cabbage leaf toupee,
even the bent old lady
who walks pell-mell
in the Fall, the strewn and gusty,
has sewn together a wig so big
that it covers her face with beauty.
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