The Treasure Of Autumn Poem by Frances Ayers

Golden boughs and crisp bright leaves
The aroma of chestnuts, roast nearby
Quickened paces and rolled down sleeves
Children playing tag eye those passing by
The wind moves aimlessly to and fro
Moving passersby with excited breath
Waiting squirrels hide down below
Expecting treats with a clever eye
Soon pumpkins will fill country fields
And gourds will grace Thanksgiving tables
Falling leaves from trees, no longer shields
The masses from the emboldened wind