Is the most wonderful time of year,
As the heat whispers and waves its goodbye - using the rattle of the leaves,
Whilst they, themselves, celebrate what summer had given them,
By putting on their most beautiful dresses for this sunset dance:
Of scarlet red,
Of flaming orange,
And of meadow, sunny yellow,
The breeze flicking and twirling their delicate dresses in a passionate tango.
The setting sun painted the skies in a blend of ripe peach and pumpkin to match the scene,
And set a flame the dresses for their final stunning arabesque.
The millions of gnats - freckled glitter in the golden light,
Like Midas had stroked every field and kissed every tree.
The robins chirping farewell to the eager swallows, spreading their wings in flight.
Dandelions releasing pappus, floating up elegantly to catch the last minutes of sun,
Sweetening the rosy air - colored by the fading light.
The sun-stained dresses transforming into night gowns
Of deep navy blue and matured lavender,
As the chilly air settled into its new home,
replacing the pappus with stars.
Summer respected Autumn's artistic passion,
And Spring admired Autumn's authentic hard work,
Whilst winter longed for the fiery colours that Autumn set a flame,
Giving way to the future ash that would be needed to once again
cause the world to sprout out from every corner in every shade of green.
The world was flaming in reds, and orange, and yellows.
The sun drowning all of it in its passionate golden light.
The remaining leaves danced,
And the rest became a vibrant carpet on the earth - like icing on cake,
In all of its majestic, elegant glory:
It was Autumn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem