Climatical Decay
There’s a slight nip felt in the air,
And a feeling that one’s aware
Of a change now, in the seasons,
For there’s certainly many reasons.
There’s a diffusion of leaves around,
Twigs too, tumbling to the ground,
As the winds swirl, dance and tease,
Among the branches of the trees.
There’s a sharpness lingering about,
And now no one can be in doubt,
That Mr Frost is on his way,
With his sparkling white display.
There’s a sense of climatical decay,
Seen on boughs that one can survey,
Autumn’s entering upon our scene,
Giving contrast to all that's green.
There’s a golden time ahead,
Ranging from yellow and orange to red,
And the glowing warm russet shades,
Weave such rich and subtle brocades.
There’s a crispness beneath the feet,
And so summer makes its sad retreat,
Handing its plush vast arena, over to
The next incumbent, with a task to do.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Added by Poetry Lover
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