Its Coming
Autumns flaming colors sift in windy windings,
cascading curtains between the barren trees.
Wind dancing leaves in a swirl around me,
like a flame colored curtain of parchment scrap.
Timeless moments, oh so soulful binding,
as this autumn day just seems to swiftly flee.
I love the chilly crispness amid autumns debris,
as I zip up my jacket and tug down my cap.
Precursor to stark winters reign upon the land,
this is the season of Natures last fling with color.
Our warning of the time to come of monochrome,
to make us ready for the first tint of new Spring.
So we take what comes to from winters hand,
and hope the snowdrifts will surely get no taller.
Oh I do hate the chilly landscape so dolesome,
and I ache for that first touch of Springs first fling.