Autumn recites poetry to the manless meadow,
Morning dew glistens and the sun is mellow.
I enjoy a cool walk in morning's freshness,
Yet memories of lost summer linger precious.
Beside tall trees the grass is turning brown,
Birds sing as colored leaves are coming down.
I see a scarecrow, in the breeze fluttering,
And the faded dying blooms without numbering!
Autumn's here...
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