'Fall Is On The Way' Poem by Linda Winchell

Fall is coming early,
There is a scent of it in the air.
Sounds of black birds calling its' arrival,
They can be heard most everywhere.

Darkened clouds seem to be preparing,
Winters' snow within their depths.
I have always had a way of feeling seasons change,
These old bones haven't failed me yet.

Farmer's corn almost ready to harvest.
Pumkins reaching color and size for Halloween.
Repeating it over and over again,
Seasons repeating majestic every scene.

With Spring there comes earths newness,
With Summer violent summer storms.
With Fall brings out its' colorfull show,
Leaves again to fertilize the ground.

With Winter comes her snow falls,
And the sounds of Christmas sleigh bells in the snow.
Then repeating it all over again,
Mother Earths beauty to grow.

One year not like the other,
All new in some small way.
Making way for changes,
In the simplest, the simplest of ways.

A lot is never viewed or heard,
In silence it all takes place.
Changing mans' enviroment,
Life and death in our human face.

We too are like the seasons,
Just going about it in a more complicated form.
Trying to contol what we can not,
And seeking more then what was born.

When is man ever going to learn?
What earth has been doing from beginning of time?
That man should let the flow of earths seasons,
Orchestrate each season in its' time.