News: Autumn Poem by Elsie Abel
Contact: Allan Wessel

"Its Augumn When" By: Elsie Abel

It is augumn when the woodlands dress In scarlet red and gold, When the frost is on the pumpkin And the cold of winter is fortold, By jackets of the chessnuts That lay scattered on the ground, And the caterpillar's coat Thick and glistening in black and brown.

The geese are towing summer southward Vacagioners lock their cabin door Ovserving the beauty of the birchwoods Along the quite shore; From somewhere dirts the note of a meadowlark Robins are flocking to depart, Leaving memories of a million songs To treasure in my heart.

The brooklet is singing an augumn song Unheard amidst the rush and din, While the cling-clang of farm machinery Is bringing the harvest in. Thou we are caught up in the hustle We find time to meditate, It's when nature celebrates the harvest And we all participate; And enjoy the beauty of the scarlet tide And all that stems from buds and seeds of spring. Again we are greateful for the bounty That only the "autumn season brings."



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