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The Gilded Season
Summer's green vistas sang a farewell tune
as bare limbs gently swayed in a chill wind.
It swept o'er hills, beneath a harvest moon,
filching leaves; a theft it could not rescind.
Autumn is gilded with bucolic hues.
Fawn feathered birds wing in indigo skies.
Burnished umbers and rusts imbued with blues
on a landscaped palette, my eyes apprise.
Nature's artistry paints without a brush,
picturesque valleys in ginger and gold.
Rouged in the season of red crimson blush.
Fall's grandeur provides bright scenes to behold.
Vivid, the months when from mountain to sea,
they're washed in beauty's prismatic esprit.
Copyright ©
Lin Lane
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