AUTUMN
by William G.James
The tang of Autumn's in the air;
The birds are southward bound;
The leaves are scurrying everywhere;
Red apples on the ground.
The summers sun has turned to gold
The fields of waving grain;
And out along the river banks
The willows weep in vain.
Farewell,sweet Summer,you have passed,
Reluctantly we say;
Then turn and greet,with open arms,
The first crisp Autumn day.