Let sultry days recede in memory,
as early frost glistens on the lawn.          		
Breathe in the cool, clear air.

Let asters flourish by the road,
chrysanthemums beside the porch, a last
burst of bloom – let Autumn come.

Let robins flee to tropic warmth,
and geese, like arrows pointed south,
make pilgrimage – let Autumn come.

Let the Harvest Moon beam down
on fields of corn shocks and pumpkins.
Let Autumn come.

The maples blaze in scarlet, aspens turn to gold,
and spruce trees drip with cones of hope.
Let Autumn come.

When trees are bare, and flowers gone,
when all looks dead, do not lose heart –
they rest.  Let Autumn come.

The year is winding to a close.  It’s time
to weigh your harvest, count your blessings.
Let Autumn come.
                        

Shorter days, and the changing angle of the sun,
send a signal, a warning old as time –
“Winter is coming – you must prepare.”
And all of nature responds.

Leaves flash their colors and say goodbye.
Underbrush subsides, and waits for spring.
Bears fatten up to hibernate.
Frantic squirrels stock their pantries.

Steady traffic fills the flyways.
Hummingbirds leave early and wing to foreign lands.
Robins head for warmer states.
And geese set out in V formation,
following summer.
                        

In Autumn, the township truck   
creeps along the street like a giant anteater,
slurping up our piles of leaves.
Next week, it’ll be back.
We’ll be ready –
we have plenty more.