As autumn wanes the leaves will fall.
In spite of rain we doubt that’s all.
I lift my eyes and search beyond.
Great gifts remain so near my pond.
I know that it’s fall.
It’s there on the wall.
And still I’ve heard much talk of snow.
I’ll look for my cap.
Though I’d prefer a long nap.
Old man winter has plenty of gall!
Sunday is our day of rest.
That’s why I like this day the best.
Yet my old rake’s about to call.
Since autumn’s leaves have begun to fall.
Perhaps it’s time to move out west?