Soft summer dusk now gently fades;

as evenings wither and decay,

and nights grow longer every day.

 

As starlings leave their golden glades,

to fly and find a warmer clime

and through the winter bide their time.

 

No more we’ll hear their serenades,

for they will not return to sing

until the heady days of spring.

 

And curling leaves in autumn shades

of yellow, ochre, brown and rust

cascade and crumble into dust.

 

Prepare for winter’s masquerades

where coverlets of snowy white

unfurl themselves through nature’s night.