It seemed to come quietly.
Not unexpected you understand,
There is a history of such things,
A cycle, a turning of leaf.
It didn’t come in heat.
No, there’d been a bit of coolness in the land,
We were past the sweating,
Past that grief.
It just dawned one morning.
A shift of time, like hourglass sand.
A sudden breeze that drew up the eye
And then a riot of relief.
All across the horizon
A giant blazing waving rainbow band
The splattered pallet of changing leaves
Colors beyond belief
And as suddenly as they burst upon us,
With a display short and grand,
The colors were all stolen
By Jack Frost, the chilling thief.
Now in the riot aftermath
I rustle across the yard and stand
In the brown and brittle corpses I must rake