Miss Autumn's coming, drops her hints,©09/16/2015 Carol Welch
among the foliage ruddy glints.
The morning fog lifts to reveal,
air with a mellow fall-ish feel.
A new trail in the summer made,
opened to view the leafy glade,
reveals red jewel, seed case matured,
Jack-in-the pulpit's next year secured,
Ferns green, although some curling brown,
most, fresh and feathery, swish their gown,
Woodbine, clings to the sturdy trees,
peeks, red tips catching autumn breeze.
Miss Autumn's coming, welcome mat,
moss on rocks and pathways cushion,flat,
eases the step as we approach,
Madame Winter's glorious coach.
But, wait, each day has its own gift;
long before summer's warmth shall lift,
we'll dance Miss Autumn through the leaves,
a celebrant, not one who grieves.
We'll trip down trails with lively feet,
without the humid summer heat.
We'll thank Father for the seasons all,
and join Miss Autumn at her ball.