Autumn

Now, the familiar golden crunch of Fall.
The brown, red, orange & mint of it all.

The yellow flurries drift down upon gusts.
Ochres, umbers & sienna…the rusts.

For, Summer’s grown old & creaking away.
Cool bites early morn; then, stripping all day.

Just enough cold passing thru for color.
No bundling up till the view grows duller.

Change, like magic, amuses & warns us.
Get ready for winter’s solemn chorus.