The First Kiss Of Winter

Transient is the autumn,
soon her glories shall fade
And the orange tipped wings will leave her trees,
to march in the parade
Of melancholy silent death
from things that once were fair
Disrobing the golden clad apparel
scattering them in air
Leaving only the naked boughs
braving the frigid nights
Frosty breath in the air
reminds us of November's bite
Nature in hibernation,
the woodland creatures have fled to the trees
And each day is a little more bittersweet,
as the temperatures drop a few more degrees
Hinting soon,
that the fleeting days of November
Will turn to a blanket of white,
upon the first kiss of winter