The chill in the autumn air,
crisp like the bite of an apple.
The turning leaves rustled in the trees
with the wind blowing its deathly knell.

All around squirrels, mice, and others
hurry to stack their winter stores
for the coming snows and bitter cold
that will blanket the earth in pure white.

Flowers start to huddle and lie
nearer to the ground with closed buds.
Green leaves will soon turn a deathly brown
as they are buried in winter’s frost.

Birds swoop across the cooling skies
seeking treasures to truss their nests.
They rush to secure them in the trees
to shelter their downy fine feathers.

The skies turn ashy grey to match
the mood of the coming season.
The ancients revered the harvest time 
paying sacrifice for their bounty.

The land will soon slumber in sleep,
With the season’s blanket of snow.
The healing dormancy will renew
All to be reborn in the spring’s thaw.