A transparent DAY IN AUTUMN

The crescendo of the summer season sonata
Fades away in several quietly sonorous
Bars of song; the acute blue of the sky
Paves the style for a lighter blue of azure Hue.
The branches of bushes prepare to put on
Autumn hues--golden yellow and pink.
Leaves decay and fall, loosening their tie
With the earth-brown, gnarled branches,
And sing their swan tune, as they retain Falling during the air, one at a time, or in
Hasty flurries of crimson, yellow, gold and brown; the leaves fall and the colors
Of the bushes lie discarded at the grass
And on paths like pleasant fairy attire.

Little creatures make it their company
To seek out trustworthy, heat niches inside the woods
The place they could sleep in the course of the
Chilly, not easy days of wintry weather, that is solely
Several rainfalls and gusts of north wind Away.
Squirrels love the tons of leaves; they
Cover acorns and nuts that they glean,
For the times of deprivation bearing down
Upon them--the threat of wintry weather Forthcoming.

There isn't a season moderately like autumn.
The spirit of autumn waves her magic Wand, and the wealth of harvest mingle With the tons of purple-gold, yellow leaves
Fallen at the flooring. Farmers harvest
The fruit in their labour, and go away gentle Yellow stubbles of ripened stalks of corn
To show brown lower than the delicate autumn sunlight.
The tiny sparrows and finches and different Birds take their fill of the grains left At the back of. Haystacks dot the cornfields with Heat yellow--an indication of the bounty of autumn. winter evening dresses

Autumn is the season of fruition and Collecting of the wealthy wealth of the soil.
Autumn is beneficiant to those that toil.
Autumn is fulfilment, heartwarming in her
Faint perfume filtering due to my Senses--the perfume of apples ripening Within the quiet sunlight and cooling nighttime dew.

Autumn stars are milder; the fall
Moon at nighttime spreads a yellow glow
Over the haystacks status shelter
Amidst harvested fields and left over golden grains, left for the little creatures
To feed themselves on their goodness.
Autumn is a minor goddess, a Ceres,
And a love music of countless sweetness.
I'd so like to be a wood fence
Round a cornfield with bushes in it, in Autumn, observing the sweep of a peaceful
Village street, in which at each one bend autumn
Holds a coach of colors and a muted Melody that lulls all clashing emotions.