The whistling wind whispering a song,
Rustling grass, humming a tune.
Summer has drawn to a close.
Autumn's budding flower has opened, revealing its miraculous colours.
Summer's failing trees, scatter their
Leaves across the moistened ground.
The murkiness of the gloom upsets the
Stillness of the poorly lit sky.
Fog looms, slowing its pace as
It roams across the midnight air.
The breezy welcome to the
Morning has long been prevented.
Birds arise from their heavy-eyed nest,
Brightening the morn? with their enchanting mantra.
The sun is visible but will
Later be defeated.
When autumn has drawn to a close and
Winter returns once again.
By Eve Rawling
Message Posted By: Eve Rawling
Date Posted: 24-06-2005