Scribbled In Crayon
October's moon sets glass aglow
as Jack Frost's etchings start to show.
Not ready to pass the baton;
Autumn's hesitant to move on.
And Scarecrows swaying in the breeze;
let crows come and go as they please.
In farmers' fields, no seeds will grow
as Nature starts to take things slow.
Colors seem scribbled in crayon;
hastily: as if freely drawn.
And Fall canopies play striptease:
as temperatures drop degrees.
December shares November's snow;
when Winter winds begin to blow.
Alas, the songbirds are long gone:
while nights get cold, 'twixt dusk and dawn.
And everything soon starts to freeze;
awaiting Spring to green the trees.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2020
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