Golden Autumn

Fall is here
Tingling of dew and winter air
The smell lingering in the breeze
That blows my thoughts round and round
Larks sing a tune of sadness
Chrysanthemums bloom gay
Green turns to orange
Then in turn, turns brown
Coldness brings freshness
The artist picks up his palette and dots
Explosions of gold and still brighter hues
Onto mother earth’s sleeping figure
He saves the brightest of them all
For the last rays of sun
That glare through the trees
For a second…
And disappears, silent as a ghost
And everything is still