Here it is, my addition for the fall prompt! I think I managed to get everything in in one way or another, and this is one more in the Victorious series. This and Peace Victorious and the soon-coming Mercy Victorious and being-planned Grace Victorious MAY eventually be expanded. Note the "may" and "eventually." 
This is somewhat similar to a short story I wrote a while ago called "Coming Home." 

This afternoon I was raking leaves. It was cold. The sky was an impenetrable grey and looked like nothing could ever break it. The trees were mostly bare, brown, and leafless, though some still held onto their burst of fall color. As I raked, the noise of the leaf blower filled my ears, but I still was able to hear one lonely bird sing. It seemed like a burst of spring right into the cold grayness of the day. I looked up, trying to find out where the song was coming from. I first looked to one tree, then to another, and yet another.

Dancing Leaves

Leaves are dancing through the air.
Dancing here and dancing there.
They drift down to the earth,
To silently sleep in a dusty berth.

Their change was slow at first,
A natural part in the Creation that sin cursed.
First through the green, yellow came
Then it made a scarlet flame.

The trees are now a brilliant parade of gold
Like the Kings and Queens of old.
The clouds race through a sea of blue,
Sending all that gold swirling down to you.

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,

There is a wind that whispers through the cold day and swirls through the colder night
There is a wind that comes from unknown places and hurries on into the haze
There is a wind that sighs with pleasure in the harvest fields and rattles happily in the treetops
There is a wind that carries falling leaves and drops them at your feet as you pass by
There is a wind that pierces fabric and dances with sharp steps on your warm skin
There is a wind that brings the smell of smoke mixed with spices in the brisk air

From green to gold leaves are turning
From Summer to Fall seasons changing
From haze to blue the sky is yearning.

From feeding flowers to raking leaves
From playing in water to playing be fire
From green to red leaves are turning.

Now is the time for harvesting
Now is the time for pumpking carving
Now is the time for Thanksgiving
Now green to orange leaves are turning.

I sit at my desk
My soul feels pinched and confined
There is too much to do
And not enough time

My feet walk away from me
My brain is still inside
And then… fall recalls me

Scents of warmth and spice
Fill my senses and
Cleanse the mind

Thoughts that cloud my mind
Are swept away
A red leaf whirling on the breeze

Swooshing feet
Through red and yellow and brown’s
crunchy carpet
Ease the crease between the brows

The warm sun touching
Warming and seeking
Refresh my spirit

Summer has come to a close
The air is cool and dry,
The fields are golden
The leaves are turning red.
Fall has come.

Sheaves of grain stacked
In neat rows scatter the field.
Men, women and children
Harves the succulent wheat.
Fall has come.

Hearts gladden at the full harvest.
Birds fly south to warmer homes
Summer and its memories are gone,
Fall is here, with many to make.
Fall has gome.