Amber, crimson, gold and tan,
Where once 'twas shades of green,
This natural turning of the leaves
Is such a gorgeous scene.
The xylem tissues, no more food
Unto the leaves provide,
Thus giving the impression that
These mighty plants have died.
The trees, so naked in the breeze,
Skeletonized 'til Spring,
Their dormant season soon will end
When new life will begin.
The hardy annuals also die,
They've given up their best,
Now hibernating 'neath the soil
To start a time of rest.
Where we continually take our rest,
Botanical rest is 'Fall'
There's ne'er the possibility of
Ignoring nature's call.
