Autumn leaves are changing
From green to red and gold.
Butternuts are falling…
Summer is growing old.

Partridges are drumming,
Squirrels run to and fro…
Birds in congregations
Soon south will start to go.

Cold weather will soon be with us,
A certainty we know;
And earth again will slumber
‘Neath its protective blanket of snow.

But there’s beauty in a winter;
Its praises we will sing…
As eagerly we count the days
When, again we’ll welcome spring!

Dick Thayer  ~  September 2007