The air is changing most certainly now.
I'm quite sure my heart can hear words.
I think that the breezes that slip through the boughs are whispering softly in thirds.
There's a shift on the wind, in the trees and the sea,
All the plants and the earth changing too.
It's a soft storm that grows with the dance of the leaves; if you listen you may hear it too.
It's the season, the time for the reason and rhyme,
All the planets align for the fall.
Soon the birds and the bees and the creatures shall sleep, and the sky; she shall weep for it all.
Slowly curling in swirls fall the leaves as they whorl,
To the ground is the end of their trip.
With the red and the gold, orange autumn takes hold and the warmth of the world slips a shift.
It's a moving transition. Quiet now, sit and listen.
All the music of seasons will sing.
There's no trick to the measure; time signature's pleasure. Undertake to endeavor this thing.
Chill and cold on the cusp; warmth and fire burn lust,
Winter creeps in the dust of the end.
Soon the grey-white rolls in on the tails of the wind; a new time will begin at the bend.
Bring your heart to the hearth; sip the cool of the dark,
Breathe the air with a spark bittersweet.
All the lives lay to rest with the beat in your chest, snow will silence the rest until spring.