Autumnal Poetry Box
The scudding gray clouds tinged darker yetHinting at tomorrow’s new snow we will get
Wild turkeys flock and cover the cornfield
Looking for ears the harvest did not yield
A small stand of pine all huddled together
Evergreen they care not the coming weather
All about them can be seen trees a blazing
Their true color shown mid autumns phasing
The cold wind gives voice to trees thought
Contemplating what will be and will be not
Listening with care to what the trees said
In sleepy low slow voices akin to the dead
Talking to their kin who laid on the porch
Drawn and quartered to be put to the torch
White is the promise as Octobers end nears
Frosting on windows in long silvery spears
The smell of mulled cider heated very warm
Encroached on the usual smells of the farm
Thoughts dwell on holidays and winter cold
Already can I see a spring bright and bold
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