The Unwitting Days of Autumn

The unwitting days of Autumn, And the carefree days of Fall— They bid farewell to Summertime, And without a care, at all. And were the Fall to think a thought, Whatever would it be? Other than to contemplate Which of all the leaves to free. For She harbors no resentments, Owing not a single debt— She travels on a balmy breeze, Free of worry, or regret. Autumn has no aspirations, No account, nor purse to fill— Autumn gently takes a sable brush Turning red both wood, and hill. Still the majesty of Autumn, Comes again, though never stays— How I envy Her oblivion, And Her unpretentious ways. And though Winter steals her color, Turning amber fields, to white; Autumn—if for but awhile— Turns my worries to delight!