Songs were sung to the tune of Fall

Temperatures rising change the call

The cold in the air just a week ago

Is now a memory of a winter owed



And now sun and breeze combine

To make the temperatures just fine

The way they should be at this time

With no chill yet, and trees sublime



Now held together on threads of gold

Combining yellows and greens still told

To older ears dressed in reds and brown

Most of them - past ready to come down



A few of the former have developed spots

Dark brown or black masses, not so hot ...

Mixed in with the bright orange-red all over

A mystery palette of color tinting the cover



In a few more weeks, there will be no green

For it'll turn to yellow, then red'll be the scene

And as they all fall, the brown will overcome

And then the mass of color change will be done



Leaving us to scoop them all together in high piles

Bagging them, or - perhaps, make mulch by the miles

And a few more weeks afterwards, all the cold breeze

Will slide right thru all of those stripped naked trees



- Tristram



(c) Christopher W. Thomas

12:37pm Friday, Oct. 16th, 1998