"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.

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