Fall In New England (Free Verse) Poem by James W. Spain

The temperature chills,
Early morning starts to fog.

Hot, sleepless nights,
Now cool and crisp.

Maple and oak trees,
Tinged with vibrant colors.

Late afternoons,
Blanketed with nightfall a bit sooner.

Our gardens have grown tired,
Pumpkins and cornstalks abound,

Hayfields have gone from green to brown,
Morning frost has provided that first kiss.

The country store,
Boast a fresh supply of apple cider,

As locals cut wood,
For winters heat,

With great anticipation,
For the winter we are soon to meet…