Fall, gracefully, gets to take her turn,
a burnished treat, in tree and fern;
the shorter days and cooler nights,
proclaim her eye-inspiring sights.

Cascade of colour on her brow,
her fiery fingertips, aglow,
up to her knees in leaves of gold,
such beauty, can the eye behold?

Ever-blushing from her face,
alluring, in her charmed embrace;
painted lady of the woods,
selling us her worldly goods.

Now, stripped to navel, as she wanes,
her bareness ushers winter’s fangs;
her majesty and power must cease.

As interlude, she takes the fall,
for winter’s paler, coverall;
so summer’s heat and parasol.

Too bad her sojourn is so short,
overtaken, by her cold cohort,
she fades, forgotten, ‘neath his robe,
so penetrating is his probe.

At winter’s stern command, she wilts,
as snowy pleats furl from his kilts;
his regimental right is plain,
‘til spring doth melt his silver mane.

  Submitted By: Robert LeMessurier