Shortened Days Poem by James Gibbons

Creeping morn's damp coats fen and fair.
The shrouded pond exhales its steamy breath.
A solitary crow observes the milky cold.
Finished fields of golden rod wave, nod.
Beckoning yellow tailed corn, farmer's friend.
ripe stalks stand, a season's offering.
Air is still, undecided rain or shine.
Languid warm memories of summer fun
blown away by season's change.
Crisp shortened days end before dark.
Blossoms, trees blush with fall's brush.
Wind shaken trees orphan their young.
Loosed leaves, whose days are numbered,
lost, looking for a place to rest.
Whiffs, windrows, scampering breeze blown;
pungent reminders of yesterday's youthful glee.
Evenings scatters stars over darkening skies,
dawn surprises with frosted vision.
Whitened lacy images etch glass and grass.
Overhead winged formations wheel, spiral;
turn south, their frolicking days now near spent.
The radiant belle has left the ball,
weeping soft tears against my window pane.