Sweatshirts and sweatpants
Bonfires and marshmallows
A fresh array of red, yellow and orange
Crinkling beneath our feet

Crisp air at our faces
Apples in baskets
Homemade pies in ovens
Pumpkins on display

The warmth of a hearth
A family ‘round the table
Giving thanks for our fortune

In lederhosen you go out dressed
To celebrate with friends on Oktoberfest
Do the polka and the chicken dance too
Then have yourself another lager brew

Find a Fraulein and give her a nice kiss
A lager in one hand and a Fraulein is bliss
You will never find yourself feeling down
Dancing with a Fraulein with a golden crown

The warm sun hits the children’s faces
Beads of sweat in hidden places
The children played marble pitch and hopscotch in their hometown
As the adults prepare the luncheon for a showdown

The couple leans closer to meet their first kiss
Savoring, not a moment to miss
While the sounds of the chickadee made music in the ear
The bougainvillea flowers bloom and appear

"Keep glowing even if no one can see your light.
For among the hidden stars on the darkest night
Someone will look up and behold
The flickering hope; words untold
Strength and Honor my Warriors! "

that young swain and his maid
lost all sense of time
and place, there, in the shade,
to the rest of the world, blind.

What happens then can't be revealed,
as the sun slowly departs,
where their leafy bower concealed
a hotter sun rising in their hearts...

While here about the final hay
is harvested in all the fields
as time grows shorter every day
before the crops all cease their yields.

And in the woods the deer fill up
in preparation of coming lust
and trees cease their modest coverup
ere long the puddles will gain icy crust.

while every Friday night the lights come on
and fans cheer their local teams
the players will be sore come dawn
when they awaken from their dreams.

Birds form flocks to make their trip
and their calls soon fill the skies
before the winter gains its grip
I'm blessed to see this with my old eyes

Quilts of brown and scarlet leaves
lie on beds of washed out green
the nearly naked trees of the north
raise their branches to be seen

The firs of winter weather wield
fat pinecones against the storms
Storing food for the sassy squirrels
Holed up in hollows, keeping warm

While in the barn bails are tossed
Piled up for the season
In the dust we are lost
But the aroma of mule we know the reason

Between our teeth we hold a frond
Of each other
And this Autumn we are fond
It is with nature we now do bond

This portent of my psyche does
Wither into grey and brown
Like the falling of the leaves
My moods go drifting to the ground

While the trees begin their rest
I’ll steady heart and firm resolve
Wait for annual rebirth
Hang tight and let the earth revolve.