Fruit is hanging on the trees.
Ripe and juicy us to please.
Leaves are turning green to yellow,
then orange to red: they look so mellow.
Days just roll on normally.
For us, that is, not flower or tree,
For they are busy, making way,
For the hard winter to come some day.
But that's not yet, so we still strive,
To make this year the best of five.
Marchant 3B.
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