Fugitives From The Trees Poem by Joseph T. Renaldi

A yearly intruder called Autumn
Stretches out and hovers above us all,
Sends down the fugitives from the trees,
On to the earth like dominos they fall.

The scattering fugitives of red and gold,
Through the cool, crisp air they whirled,
Bustling as far as the eyes can see,
Until on the ground they freely swirled.

Sadly, Nature's trees will become bare
Mid piles of fugitives so very deep
In the nip of the frosty Autumn air
When the intruder beckons the trees to sleep.