The leaves wither as they may.
Ready to feel free, they fall and blow away.
In a flurry they circle around, enclosing you.
Mouth agape in awe, you just don’t know what to do.
The mixes of yellow, brown, purple and green.
A desire to engulf yourself overcomes so you glean.

In the pile it smells of dust and aged rain.
You wish you had this moment to always retain.
Autumn, a blend of cold and warm.
No one could possibly feel a scorn.
Cherish this season for what it is,
for when it’s gone you may feel amiss.