The Last Days of Autumn
November and we saw the last of autumn,
Reds, russets, browns and golds.
The tree's glorious goodbye,
Before winter falls.
Late autumn sun on the mountains and trees,
Blue skies, fluffy sailing clouds.
In what is now a cool, crisp,
And winter warning Breeze.
Mosses, so green in summer,
turned now to a bronze shimmer.
Ready to transform themselves to a protective brown,
As winter's onslaught gives a glimmer.
The last of the fairies toadstools,
Standing tall and bright in the mossy light.
But, like the swifts and the swallows,
Fairies have disappeared long ago for the long winter night.
Trees stand tall in their barrenness grandeur,
Leaves now all lost at Autumn's end.
Not gone yet though,
They trickle leisurely like a stream,
Until the gales of winter descend.
We will wake in the morning to wintertime,
As the pale twilight of autumn disappears.
As though he knows his own and rightful place,
A robin in all his bright glory suddenly and gently just appears.
©KAGraham
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