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by Alice M. Batzel 

Nature’s paintbrush ignites a glorious blaze upon the mountains,

Trees with leaves of vibrant orange, gold, and crimson,

Cool breezes blow during the day,

Nightfall gently comes early.

Pumpkins are harvested, and gardens begin to slumber,

Soil is turned and relieved of its final growth,

Plow and hoe are cleaned and put away,

Early morning misty clouds quietly spill over the mountain tops.

Starkly absent are children’s voices of summertime glee,

Neighborhoods quiet down,

Teacher and pupil are reunited at school,

Signs of approaching holidays abound throughout town.

Hunters venture into the woods and mountains,

Mothers put blankets upon the beds,

Coats are ready and hung in the closet,

Many hands stock pantry and shelves for needs ahead.

A cold snap’s chill knocks upon our door,

Fierce winds force leaves to loosen their grip upon their branches,

Falling leaves swirl and dance upon lawns and streets,

Vivid colors fade away.  Gray washes over the weary sleeping mountains.

Snow peeks out from atop the highest ridges,

Birds fly in formation with grand exit,

The air is damp, cold, quiet and still,

Autumn is here, and Winter is on its way.

(copyright 2013, rev. 1/24/2020 -  Alice M. Batzel - all rights reserved.)

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