EVERY EVENT HAS ITS PERIOD.

Red, orange, yellow and crimson,

Art for death, a seasonal condition,

Beauty speaks, the blue sky is hidden,

By cumulus grey fluffy shadows

Stirring for action, coincide with the

Push and pull of the constellation,

And gravity laden with a chill,

Potent is time's melancholy breath to

Dampen the will,

Halloween fest's laugh out the night,

Never witches,wizards or warlocks in

Sunny daylight,

Shop trolls hanging in the twilight dusky

noon,

Energized by kids to play havoc as when

Clouds dance, passing by the full moon,

From each gust of wind like drizzling rain

Leaves find their patch to decorate the

ground,

Soon each tree is skinned looking lifeless in

Their frame

No more flappy noises of their leafy sound,

Except for the evergreen showing off shrewd

Resilience to bear,

Determining a proud existance of its presence

In the fall, this time of year.