High above the hawk is circling
Red shoulders cutting through blue sky
The year's last delicious thermals are rising

Like feathers the leaves are falling
Dazzling colors giving life as they die
Surrendering to the season, so gracefully accepting

The night chorus of crickets is thinning
Issuing a sporadic collective sigh
Through the cool autumn evenings

In the morning darkness Full Moon is sinking
Bright Venus chasing close behind
Fall's late Dawn is stirring

Tiny sparrows with their golden crowns
Return from distant nesting grounds
To be miniature suns
In this long winter run