The paths are spread with carpets grey and gold
And walls are hung with quilts of green and red
The air is laced with clouds of frosty cold
And bridges hung with webs of silver thread
The sun is slow to raise its sleepy head
And parks are strewn with beads of diamond drops
The night is long with scattered stars ahead
And fields are bare with stubble-bearded crops
The trees are flushed with moods of swirling change
And skies are strung with faith on migrant wings
The land is brushed with nature’s palette range
And hearts are warm with hope that autumn brings
— Wayne Visser