Autumn Threnody Poem by John F. McCullagh

I have loved this time of year since the moment of my birth;
Its panoply of colored leaves that flutter down to earth.
I've loved the cool and bracing breeze, the fruits of harvest grown,
the sight of geese in Vee formation winging their way home.
My treks out to the cider mill for a warm mug or glass.
The times I've spent reflecting upon this year just passed.
I raise the collar of my coat against a sudden chill.
I feel cold winter's icy breath drawing nearer still.
Please delay the Christmas tunes another week or two.
Oktoberfest is barely done, so sit and have a brew.
Seduce me not with chestnuts roasting on an open fire.
Winter just means shoveling, the snow piled ever higher.
Its days: short, dark, and dreary. Its nights are long and cold.
So I mourn Autumn's passing with its gifts of red and gold.