The summer’s gone, it’s blown away
Beg as I would, it could not stay
And now I feel the traitor’s spell
I cannot bar old Autumn’s tell.
So stoke the fire and heat up all
The fruits and plants from frosty fall
Shall all be captive to the cold
Like pioneers in times of old !
Have you noticed that the leaves are flown
They’ve been whisked away to parts unknown
I wonder where they now congregate
It once was beside each garden gate.
There was a game the small children played,
Heap up the biggest pile of leaves made
And then just jump and roll around
In that leafy mess upon the ground.
I never thought that game was much fun
With all that cleanup you would have done
But now I’m confused, where are the leaves
Are we victims of bucolic thieves ?
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Claire V. Bogdanos 