Photo by Barbara Dilger
The Farm (IV – Autumn)
By Charley West
Leaves of crimson, green, and gold
Reach the hearts of young and old.
Thus is Autumn’s presence told.
Dying grasses clog the creek,
In the shadows minnows streak.
Berries too have passed their peak.
Still the remnants birds do seek.
Swollen from the summer rain,
Water levels rise again.-
In luxury the herps now reign,
Looking lovely - acting vain.
Celsius slides to lower range.
Mammal coats reflect the change. -
Some grow thick - some look strange -
Like a puzzle disarranged.
Daylight wanes each passing date.
Migration flights accelerate.
At Appert’s towers minions wait,
Embellished stories to relate.
At the Farm in Autumn.