The air is crisp, wild geese fly high
And I view Autumn with a sigh;
The leaves are dancing to and fro
In rhythm with the winds that blow.
The shades of Autumn sport a blush
That's envied by the palette's brush,
And I stand spellbound by this treat
As twirling leaves entwine my feet.
The fruits of labor now reveal
Row upon row of ripened fields,
And through a distant Autumn haze
Friendly scarecrows gently wave.
The harvest moon's enchanting glow
Is prelude to the Winter's snow,
And I must gather memories
That I may recall days like these.
~ Catherine Janssen Irwin
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