Dance To Her Tune
The daylight doesn't seem as bright as before,
as if the sun is fast fading away.
And gathering grey clouds fuel rains that pour:
sending kids scurrying inside to play.
Autumn's pretentious colors fade from sight,
until no trace remains; their beauty brief.
And short days relinquish their length to Night,
the trees stripped naked, not a single leaf.
The honking geese have all migrated south,
along with most of our precious songbirds.
And, daunting rumors, spread by word of mouth:
whisper Winter's here in so many words.
Winter's wailing winds will start whistling soon,
and we all must learn to dance to Her tune.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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