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#41 "An Autumn Sonnet"
Chill October breezes wind about me.
Around my ankles the crisp, cold air swirls.
Away from my lips my frosty breath curls.
Orange, Red, Yellow leaves fall from browning trees.
Eddies of wind go where ever they please.
Down out ouf the branches an acorn hurls,
Knocked from the paws of two chittering squirrels.
They dash 'round the tree as fast as can be.
Yet too soon, snow will come and food be gone.
Now is the time to harvest the crops,
If only in vain hope that food will last.
The drifts of snow shall glow with morning's dawn
As the icicles inot their beds flop,
And the seasons roll by but oh so fast.
