Summer's All But Gone
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I no longer hear the songbirds sweetly singing,
and fear they've left, knowing what Winter is bringing;
though I listen; each dawn.
The crops in the fields are ripe and ready to pick,
and it seems summer's disappearance is no trick;
those days are moving on
Shorter days and longer nights have picked up a chill,
and chrysanthemums have replaced the daffodil;
Summer has all but gone.
As Autumn's festival of the leaves comes to pass,
Jack Frost will color green leaves, gold, amber, and brass;
as if with wax crayon.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2020
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