As morning dawns so bright and clear,
Born from a night of new found frost.
‘Tis found a certain time of year,
When leaves, with gold, are then embossed.
Burnt bright by all that frosty air;
Seen now mixed with red and brown.
Those trees take on a look so fair;
Decked out with each, an amber crown.
Though some are still found bright with green;
With prickly needles; cones of pine.
All still within these woods are seen,
Within these autumn days, aligned.
A place where one may take a stroll;
And see the beauty all there laid.
On valley floor; on tree bound knoll,
Beneath that leafy gold tinged shade.
Then as the wind blows through those trees;
Those leaves let go and blow all through.
A dance takes place within that breeze;
Where seen, is mixed, each autumn hue.
Then turning, spinning, upward bound,
They’re lifted up into that sky;
Downward then toward the ground;
They all then on that trail, lie.
Upon a nearby flowing stream;
They fall into that waters flow.
They pass on through that sun lit gleam;
Wrought within that daytime glow.
Then with the night, is laid more frost,
To sparkle ‘neath that moon light, clear.
All things therein are then embossed;
As comes this autumn time of year.