Fall:Â 1981
The golden, brownish reddish, orange leaves, though withering, bear hidden life—
In panoramic beauty,
Their splendor for our pleasure,
As they fall from stalwart trees in Autumn-tide
We gather them up in piles—
For cozy fires, warm.
We pluckkand fill our baskets full with nuts, pumpkins apples—
Plentiful fruit,
Rreadily ripe,
As we pick from bountiful orchards
As Autumn sighs.