AUTUMN LEAVES

Father Frost did this

Brought his gift of color here

Silver sparkled breath.

All the land reflects

The coolness of his grasp

Leaves to color turn.

Orange, red, gold, rust

Dancing in the sun and wind

Delighted we gaze.

Then drop to the ground

Making tinted. soft carpets
Children jumping in.

Sad to see leaves go

But tired trees need to rest

Hibernation time.

They will bloom again

When seasons have journeyed round

Our Creator's gifts.

Corinne H. Mustafa