Form: Collins Sestet
The year is waning as the colours change
To golden rusty hues of Autumn’s range
The death of trees is drawing ever near
The wheel is turning to that time of year
We’re busy gathering the harvest in
No time to talk of all that might have been
Now as we feel nature’s energy drain
With fading days kissed by the chilling rain
The leaves are falling, swirling on the breeze
The time of rest is coming for the trees
And the longer nights can be truly seen
There’s time to talk of all that might have been
©JGFarmer2020
A Garret Poet 