Whispers of Autumn Fall

They say it's in the wind restless teases and taunts that seasons are in flux an escape out of the summer's endless rush, hush now, if you listen close you might hear the trees as they host a last farewell to the flow of this year; it's a catchy phrase, barely audible in the blend of fall color palettes applaudable yellows, oranges, crimson reds as leaves have fled, they hurry now, rushing into the harvests of October gusts nature has her schedule as each season must as spring's summer closes the account trust; see the skies, the blues on grays as life proceeds on, fall begins to slip away.