Before Our Very Eyes

The stiff wind blows through the leaves Of red, gold, yellow and brown Beating them fiercely And dumping them in piles on the ground The piles scatter in circles like little whirl winds Gusting to and fro The blackened cloud filled sky spits Barely visible tiny flakes of snow This was our very first inkling that Fall Was ending and Winter was on its way We turn our heads toward the wind, chins down, Knowing a Season is gone until another day. To this we know our busy lives continue on And there is nothing left to say A season has changed Right before our very eyes Written by:  S. Matheson 10/28/2004