The days are short,
The nights are cool and
The dew lies sleeping on the grass.
A gentle breeze travels through the trees,
Rustling the leaves into a soothing voice
That murmurs the coming of a new season.
Ornaments of golden yellow and harvest orange
Dance through the forest high. Leaves glide softly to earth,
Autumn is nigh upon us and
the coming of winter is felt throughout.
Harold R. Stinnette
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