Twirling leaves of gold and brown
surrender humbly to death's round.
Summer memories autumns drown,
while whistling winds in woods resound.
Squirrels scurry in hunt profound.
A morning's mist rises from damp ground,
early cold in a frosty gown,
covers geraniums with wet crowns.
What a season of keen renown
for poets are moved to greatly expound,
sitting by fires peacefully unwound
as autumn’s beauty their words propound.
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2022
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment