It's the fall of my life and the leaves are descending,
Summer is done and the winter is pending.
The air has a bite and daffodils are a thing of the past,
I miss those warm, lazy days but know they don't last.
Memories of sweet blossoms, hot sun and new greenery,
Brilliant landscapes alive with potential in lush scenery,
All replaced by brooding clouds in shades of grey,
And the fire hues of autumn in the process of decay.
Seasonal rain goes on for days without restraint,
Before surrendering to fog, misty and faint.
Then the overcast skies open and pour torrential rage –
The days become shorter and the wind begins its rampage.
But when clouds part and the moon chases the sun from the sky,
And the ponderous stars twinkle clearly in heavens up high,
September's equinox is prime harvest time before a great rest,
And the fiery richness of creativity finally showcases its best.