Thursday, November 6, 2008

Indian Summer

It happens here after the first killing frost
The days we call summer we know we have lost
We look in our yards, and up in our eaves
We see that our trees are shedding their leaves

We get out our tools, the blower and rake
We know all the labor and time it will take
We will rake our leaves and place them in piles
In which kids might leap and give us their smiles

Take our warm weather things, put them away
The coming cold weather won't be here to stay
The weather that we enjoy at this time
Will be back next spring, all of nature will chime


Shellmo said...

Lovely - I just shared w/ my hubby as he finished raking the leaves.

74WIXYgrad said...

Shellmo: I figured my Midwest blogger buddies would appreciate this.

Michelle Dawn said...

Lovely poem. I really enjoyed it.

Pat Jenkins said...

that is what mother nature is for. to blow away the remnants of fall!!!