Foretelling of Fall

My dear wind curls around my arms It whistles and blows red and gold, I wait for its warm fall harvest mix soup, And yon pumpkin’s face in a glow. The smell of the mix of lunchtime vegetables, Peas and potatoes and ham and steam, To share with our new picking corn neighbors, And joy in our first fall dreams. There will be laughter and singing and dancing, A hay wagon and calico, We will run alongside happy horses, While my cool fall wind loves to blow. Inside is the smell of wood pencils and paper, As we titter who will we meet. Mon and pop read their evening papers, While by the fire we warm our feet.