Standing stalwart in the chill, as the cold black oversees
The red flamed leaves are still seen present on the trees
They refuse to acquiesce till northern winds abound
And when they’re blown away, we hear a mournful sound
Another autumn laid to rest, another season comes
Remaining flowers disappear as does the bees’ constant hum
As spring relented so must fiery autumn follow
Presenting all the trees so bare and looking hollow
The sadness of one season gone should not be looked upon as tragic
Because the starkness of the trees will soon be draped in snow white magic.
***
The Bag Lady 
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