Fallβs paintbrush has come again
Trees alight with reds and yellows
Orange peeks behind the greens
They fall, swept up by the wind
That swirls and scatters them
With gleeful pleasure
The days grow shorter
Darkness stretches out
The air turns crisp and nips at noses
Night dips down turning the dew
To white webs of frost
That melt away when sun returns
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