Although some hints of Summer remain,
Autumn awaits, ready for the exchange.
The seasons pass like changing of the guards,
They nod in acceptance, giving each other the highest regard.
The smell of fresh cut grass is replaced by the aroma of falling leaves
As they dance in the breeze beneath the trees.
Children walk briskly to and from the bus stop.
Farmers evaluate their latest crop.
While lost souls linger in the dark
They wait to hear others remark.
The cycle of life and death go hand in hand,
We reap the benefit of the harvest upon the land.
Some settle inside the coziness of their home
And others pass along the sidewalk to roam.
They smell the goodness of stews and pies.
Their stomach makes inquisitive cries.
As the warm passes the cold will it ignite a fire?
The cold wants warmth, it is their utmost desire.
Will the warm stay snuggled in their bed?
Or will they notice and share their bread?