Bright, golden leaves are all I need
To start my Autumn days;
Along the paths they lie in state
In season's grand displays,
But soon they're joined by reds and browns,
First scattered by faint breeze,
Then swirled by winds of hazy dawns
Which rustle through the trees.
November hints of dusty cool
As leaves blend lifelessly,
Mosaic of a hued demise
Which greets eternity.
December bids when come the snows
To blanket all scenes white;
I watch with sadness as the leaves
Are taken from my sight.
~ Henry W. Gurley
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