''A walk down Autumn's lane."

A poem about Autumn

Autumn's lane changes,
at the beginning of September,
when nothing else is certain-
Autumn is the one to Remember.

The leaves begin to foil,
speaks of brown and orange,
the wind becomes Bitter.
My fingers freeze over-
no one else is outside,
there is only Decay left over.

Autumn gets its way-
-one way or another,
makes days shorter
as animals leave to hibernate,
there is only me left over.

I think of the birds who fly,
to escape the cold,
their wings readily sprawl,
natural instincts take call-
not stuck on deep ground,
where there is no one, at all.

Or hedgehogs with quills,
equipped for home-hunting,
explore the ground,
insects for munching-
They seem so much meeker,
above ground.

and when you walk down,
Autumn's lane-
You notice these habits,
the creatures,
the sound of it-
the difference of nature,
the effect of it-
and when you walk down,
see how it changes you,
Things pass by us when you don't see them through-

and when its the end,
and Winter calls to you
don't feel regret in thinking,
'I wish you would have called me too.'