The edges of the trees are turning,
Verdant capes trimmed in gold.
The night birds sing more quietly
Their epic tale almost told.
The sun no longer has such intensity
As cooler winds blow bold.
The edge of summer passes
As bright blooms begin to fold.
Another year passes quietly
Youth progresses to the old
EHHHH, just a bit of poetry this morning. I noticed that the leaves are just beginning to change. I greatly enjoy 2 times of the year. In the spring when you realize everything is once more green. Then again in the fall when everything is golden once more.