The whispers of autumn
In summer’s soft embrace, petunias prance,
Their velvet skirts entwined in breezy waltz.
But autumn’s breath, a whispered, wistful trance,
Now leads them to their final, fading waltz.
The butterflies, like painted petals, soar,
On silent wings through twilight’s tender haze.
While geese, in ghostly garb, in flight explore,
The beckoning of far, forgotten days.
The garden wears a gown of gold and red,
Its jeweled leaves, like coins, are cast away.
They dance with wind, a dusty twirling thread,
Then vanish in the sky’s cool, silken gray.
Beneath the moon, the pumpkins’ amber light,
Calls forth the harvest’s heart, the autumn’s night.
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