An Ode to Autumn

I sit and write of Autumn,
Of languid Autumn's day;
The breeze blows out the leaves throughout,
Beneath the branches' lazy sway.

I’ll paint your eyes with Autumn,
Show you Autumn's red monsoon;
In frost-strewn fields, the surface yields
Beneath the burning harvest moon.

Of amber Autumn do I write,
And of earthy Autumn's sigh,
Of winds as crisp as winter's wisps
Which dream of warmth before they die.

I sing aloud of Autumn,
Of a deep Autumnal night;
Of leafy mounds, in colors profound
Beneath the frigid starlight.