Autumn Poem (by sarah)
I like Autumn best of all,
even if the Americans insist on calling it fall,
I grant you that is what the leaves tend to do,
it is true,
but it is a discription
And not the name of a season
lacking the proper diction.
I like Autumn,
an autumnal fall of leaves
if you please,
a cascade of warmth upon the ground,
colours of fire in leaf litter found,
the hedgehog snuffling,
fattening on worms
as he is hibernation bound.
Kite flying and fire lighting,
toating of marshmellows and golden tinged skies,
not too mention too many apple and blackberry pies.
Pumkins carved into silly faces
Fire works and three legged races
All the fruit gathered in
The christmas cake already baking in a tin
Frost delicate slivers upon the leaves
Gloves clumsy with keys
But in the house we go
For hot chocolate and spiced coco
I like autumn best of all
though the Americans call it fall.
Thu 20th Sep 2012 10:18 pm 
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