A chilling breath of wind
ruffles my hair, catches hold
twirls me around
in a whirl of red and orange
of yellow and gold,
and sings a song for days of old
The sun is sinking,
a blaze of bright,
the moon is rising in gray twilight
The sparrow's form careening
across the pale blue sky
the wind, it still keeps singing,
and twirling as summer sighs
My cheeks are cold and crimson
from the very first kiss of fall
that comes with the chill wind blowing
and then, without a sound,
it's catching hold and twirling me
around and around and around
in a whirl of red and orange
and yellow and gold and brown
until, with the song still echoing
the first leaf touches ground.