Song of Autumn

I come from out the distant north from lands of ice and snow,

Where cooling winds uplift the soul, where icy waters flow;

I breathe upon your world of green, on mountain mead and wold,

When lo! Your landscape quickly turns to blazing red and gold.

I am a bold impressionist, master painter I,

I lay the colors rich and thick on wood and field and sky;

I never putter with the brush, my hand is quick and bold,

Upon the canvas tinted green I swap my red and gold.

But I am more than colorist, I am the harvester,

I bring the apple to the ground, and start the mills to whirr;

I bring the yellow to the corn, and fill the barns with wheat,

And stack the cellar bins again with wondrous things to eat.

I bring a bracing atmosphere to summer’s sluggish wind,

And I am welcomed everywhere by sweltering mankind.

Fear not my rough and ready ways, fear not my cooling breath;

Although I come from ice and snow, I bring more life than death.

Sept. 18, ‘09