Working The Swing Shift

Sweet juices spilt Spring, free thee greeneries ye lands amend, then weave to Summer's eve  ere its proclaim windswept name, a said leave from Indian grabbed drum who beat the trees sown years to be, made wholly thick of leaves that fairs their surrender the length life cleave presence parting, color-filled glimpses, grieve end tone boughs under the rainbow it heaves. Promised life gift wrap, belly breathless dews touch, process the fallen heaps, hues go dark as arched sensed the passing, a rainbow drift abroad, probed closures, 'tis bit of year, clues deem it's Autumn, chills stretch a wintry mark tho' Thanksgiving's present in the swing shift.