"Autumn"

Autumn

~Polly Ward~

Don't you love autumn

When the leaves come tumbling down,

Where they fall in billowy carpets

For the wind to toss around ?

The air feels cleaner, calmer,

As the sounds float o'er the hill. . .

Of the gathering of the harvest

As the barns and cellars fill.

It seem that in autumn

The aroma of burning leaves . . .

Just fill our heart with gladness

While we're bringing in the sheaves.

And the smell of spicy cooking

Of applebutter, jams an jell . . .

And all those pickles mother makes,

And preserves we love so well.

Autumn is : "the summer gone"

And "winter on the way,"

An all those cherry autumn shades

Can't help but make us gay.

I love the Indian summer

With its flaming painted sky . . .

Like an artist at his canvas,

With a thousand pots of dye.

It seems that in autumn

Nature folds her work for rest:

And gathers up her children. . .

And holds them to her breast.