The days grow short as the dusk hastens
And the chill of Autumn is in the air.
Trees now brown, crimson and gold,
Soon Autumn winds will blow them bare.
The pungent odor of leaves which have fallen
Supplants the sweetness of Summer's bloom.
Now swirling winds enjoin them to dance
In celebration of a coming harvest moon.
Summer's bounty now harvested and stored
In preparation of a coming holiday feast.
Halloween witches, goblins and ghouls
Uttering the familiar "Trick or Treat."
A fire now roaring in the evening hearth,
Its light dancing on faces young and fair.
Chimney smoke permeates moon-lit skies
And the chill of Autumn is in the air.
