The leaves scurry hither and yon, trying their darndest to get away,

From the power blades of the John Deere mower, that seeks to devour them, rendering them useless.

Their day has come and gone; leaves once filled with chlorophyll, have turned a reddish, rusty brown; as they attempt to paint the town, one last time.

The wind strikes while they are down. It shows no mercy, as it pushes them up against the concrete wall.

Even as I watch, summer bids adieu, as does the fall.

Now winter beckons, it covers the ground,

With a blanket of white, in itself a beautiful sight.

Charlotte Richardson

Auburn