
Trees bend to the will off the air
Moving gently without a care.
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Softly rustling and tussling not a tout
A mere whisper as they move about.
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Cool breeze through the trees has its say
Early suggestions of winter as it may.
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Leaves suddenly turn, and fall to the ground
As they do, hardly making a single sound.
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Yellows, tans, oranges and reds
Flow like feathers above our heads.
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No bugs around the forest deep
Early entering a seasons long sleep.
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A chimney smokes and fills the air
A sweet-rich scent beyond compare.
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The sky in fall is a different kind of blue
All who like up know that it’s true.
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Not much time left, sunshine’s shorter
Winter happens in less than a quarter.
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Leaves cover the ground so much
That every step results in crunch.
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As it darkens, I tire, and venture home
For hot apple cider to warm my bones…
-AAA 09/04/2024