Gardens Of Delight

When summer's bustle starts to slow,
Its pace begins to still,
A new, yet familiar feeling comes:
It's autumn's warmth, not chill.

It's true, a briskness fills the air,
And frost may some plants kill,
But if you look for autumn's warmth,
You'll notice not the chill.

The season's warmth is ev'rywhere,
Each sense can feel a thrill,
In leaves of crimson, gold, and rust
There is no hint of chill.

When aromatic coffee
Or a hot mulled cider fill
A brimming cup that warms your nose
You cannot feel a chill!

The pumpkins bright with orange
Dot the fields and paint the hill,
Bring in the harvest, and come enjoy
The autumn's warmth, not chill!

Jean-Michel Damase: Danses d'Automne (Dances Of Autumn).
Antonio Vivaldi: "Autumn" from The Four Seasons.
Giacomo Puccini: Chrysanthemums.

So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
--William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part Two; II, iv.

Poem, "Autumn's Warmth," © 2007 by Michele Grace.

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