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Fall, The Poetic Time Of Year


FallFall is a magical time of year and it seems to bring out the poet in me. Maybe it’s the crispness in the air, the multi colored leaves or the smell of wood fires wisping through the evening breeze.

Nature’s Ballet

There was no fanfare,
No blast of trumpet sounds,
No mighty orator to announce the falling.
Just the simplicity of Autumn’s last leaf
Descending to the hardened earth below.




Till with a quickness of movement,
The bronzed leaf was carried upon the back
Of a guiding breeze across the meadow.
The leaf floated,
As did the magic carpet
In Arabian tales of old.
Every twist, turn and swirl,
A part of nature’s ballet.

*You can read my complete manuscript of poetry at All Alone In A Crowd.

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