God heaves a sigh, impatient with the stifling August thief
That steals the breeze from summer's dance,
Assenting no relief.
And so begins the first cool breath of autumn.
The trees strip-tease, and pirouette, unfastening each gown,
Releasing limbs that tremble
As their youth slips to the ground,
While blushing at the bolder moves of autumn.
An amber ambience is mixed to fill the Master's brush,
And fiery hues of sunset
That engulf us in a rush
Of joy. He paints the glorious blaze of autumn.
Staccato wood notes wake the wind. An owl laughs at the moon.
The parchment crunch of footsteps
Moving to a quicker tune
Of autumn -- haunting music that is autumn.
From time to time, as mortals do, I grumble at my lot.
Why must it last another day,
This life that luck forgot?
But when God starts to color in His autumn,
I know I have to live another autumn.
Donna J. Stone
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