The Death of Summer

Autumn is here and my heart fills with glee

With anticipation for basking in

The cold sun under a fiery tree.

 

I relish the crisp smell of fall’s sharp air

And todd away the glasses and hat to

Stare down the sun’s weak attempt at a glare.

 

I revel in leave constantly falling

While again I dance with my mike/rake

Even though to sing is not my calling.

 

I now rejoice in not having to mow

As I sit in fall’s ever cropped grass and

Thank the heavens for preparing to snow.

 

And though being shut in school is a bummer,

I still refuse to shed a single tear

As I celebrate the death of summer.