An autumn breeze is in the trees, a chill is in the air.
It serves as warning to all, large and small, to beware.
Of winter's coming, and the time to prepare.
To gather fruits of the summer and to share.
The sky’s become so blue of different hue,
The light, more intense than bright, revealing too.
The summer heat has flown, replaced by the pervading chill,
That alerts the sated senses, and brings to them no ill.
The chill slips silently down from the north,
It slides in gently over night, and brings forth.
The coming of a fresh sweet day,
Where I can dream the hours away, or
Wake up to a time to run, a time to play.
Spend, yes waste, this fresh, newborn day.
For soon, very soon, the winter winds will come,
And blow the wool warm chill away.
And I will long for the chill, still breeze,
Of a warm leaf falling, sunlit, autumn's day.
Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull