Summer, hesitantly, gracefully,
concedes to Autumn's bold arrival.
She bids farewell to her veil of green with a curtsy,
and a kiss of amber, russet and plum.
He laughs at her, and puffs his cheeks
to blow his chilly breath
like a thief stealing her last,
casually drifting to earth with a blanket of dry brown.
However even he, in his bold audacity, will have to bow,
for Old Man Winter is even bolder.
When his turn comes
he'll shake his icy finger in the face of bold Autumn.
So Summer, while we have been loyal to you,
and you to us,
Autumn must have his chance,
we look to him now, for all he has to offer.
There are leaf piles to be jumped in,
pumpkins to carve, corn stalks and Indian corn to display,
back yard bon fires, hay rides and apple pies to bake.
We will love him, as we have loved you.
We will not forget you dear Summer,
we will longingly anticipate your return,
for none is as gentle as you,
no other shines and warms like you,
You have worked hard for us and served us well,
we understand every Beauty needs her rest,
so until next time dear lady,
permission to slumber is granted.
P.J.
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