Leaves of bronze , cider, and marigold
Greens hide deep with strongest hold
But those painted with autumn’s brush
Soon will let loose and take the plunge
Falling down
To the ground
To be trampled on
Or gathered up
Giving a time of frolic and joy
To any spirited girl or boy
Don’t you just love the sound
crunch of leaves on the ground
Trees so kind to give up her coat
Despite Winter’s customary advent
Yet Winter is the one to gloat
And makes her entry in her own time
She has caught us unaware
Coming unexpectedly in the night
And times she made us beg her here
As if we’d offended and kept her in flight
And there are times our icy friend
She lingers just a bit too long
Though you bid her adieu
She refuses to take a clue
And just continues on and on
I think her to be a tad bit vain
Unlike the timely autumn rain
Yet our trees, rooted deep and strong
Are sustained by Earth’s warm core
Til Winter permits a new guest along
Then hues of green shall spring forth
Stabbing Windmills 