Autumn
By Polly Ward 1962
Don't you Love Autumn
When the leaves come tumbling down,
Where they fall in billowy carpets
For the wind to toss around?
The air feels cleaner, calmer,
As the sounds float o'er the hill....
Of the gathering of the harvest
As the barns and cellars fill.
It seems that in Autumn
The aroma of burning leaves...
Just fill our hearts with gladness
While we're bringing in the sheaves.
And the smell of spicy cooking
Of applebutter, jams and jell.....
And preserves we love so well.
Autumn is: "The summer gone" and "Winter on its way,"
And all those cheery autumn shades
Can't help but make us gay
I love the Indian summer
With its flaming painted sky...
Like an artist at his canvas,
With a thousand pots of dye.
It seems that in autumn
Nature folds her work for rest:
And gathers up her children....
And holds them to her breast.
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