Though the last Jack O’Lantern Mushroom has not died Though the creek’s bottom is still slippery with moss I saw an amber leaf twinkle and sway thro’ a gustier, colder breeze; So, I will take this grey day from the northern winds

Though the warmth of yester day’s sun still lingers Though Autumn is still unheard while Cicadas fiddle I saw an invisible hand caress the branches reaching up; Its biting chill is welcomed in this festering fever