Autumn Wind
What fun to shake the trees;
the wind, playful.
She doesn’t have to ask please,
nor be graceful.
Leaves not picked like apples;
flutters like snow.
Crisp like the fruit; wrestling grapples
the pile below.
The wind, playful.
She doesn’t have to ask please.
Her shake, faithful.
In Autumn, she’s ripe to tease.
Flutters like snow;
crisp like the fruit. Wrestling grapples
handfuls to go
in Fall’s blowhard battle.
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