Changing Season

Trees dawn their glowing gown,

One by one whirling down,

upon the autumns cooling ground.


The wind whispers in my ears,

through leaves that winter’s near,

frost creeps on leaves, no fear.


Snow begins to fall so light,

The air begins to give a bite,

until it blows with all it’s might.


The cold creeps up beginning to nibble,

blowing as if it’s playing a fiddle,

breaking you down whittle by whittle.


Stronger than wind and cold is might,

for if it wants can bite and bite,

but cozy are we by fire light.



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