-- by Joseph C. Dorffner, Sr. - Copyright 2000 --
The leaves of Fall are dropping,
upon the dew drenched grass.
The early morning warmth of sun,
there less each day that pass.
The chirping of the singing birds,
has parted to warmer grounds.
The whistling of a northern wind,
replace their bird-call sounds.
The fields have lost their color,
most have turned to brown.
The farmer soon to final harvest,
a crop cut close to ground.
The hunters they are restless,
hunting season approaches near.
The thoughts of a clean-shot buck.
the venison taste of youthful deer.
The days they grow shorter,
while nights expand in time.
The Winter soon befall us,
but that's another rhyme.
Snow Effect Script from: DynamicDrive
Background from: Capricorn007