Summer, with its bags packed,
somberly waves goodbye and I imagine
that's the way it will be
as sentiments are exchanged
with promise of return, as sunlight
and shades of green, slowly
drift away, replaced by
lingering chill,
gleaming visions of rusty orange, amber
and yellow ochre splashed across
landscape, that sighs with
the reserved humility
of a mother, facing another daunting task,
for this is either a season of woe,
or a magical time to show
an autumnal hospitality
with grateful heart n hearth, both
warm and plentiful with
spice scents wafting and merry
souls laughing
as right outside their windows
flora and fauna, quietly
accept without contention
the natural order,
understanding that all things are
cyclic, renewable and
a long sleep will do them good
till spring wakes, with a warm kiss.
Gold trophy winner
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