Autumn is the while of year Uttering words of red and gold The boughs will soon be naked as can be. Underneath the branches' tier Mounds of leaves heap in the cold Now that autumn falls upon the tree. With the passing of the weeks, Inside the woodland haven there, Nothing stops the changing of the green. The snowy landscape dusts the peaks, Evergreens are white and fair, Rending winter's icy season's scene. Soon the sun will warm the snow Producing springtime streams Rushing down the hillsides, quite beguiled. In and out of dales they go Nurtured by sunbeams; Going on forever fast and wild. So, now the year has run its course Under heaven's sky, Melodious in song, a troubadour. Mountains harness summer's force, Elevated, towering, high, Rehearsing for the autumn's grand encore.