The leaves are off the old Silver Maple out behind ...
Many stripped off by the Halloween wind.
A yellow and brown carpet cover over our meager acres,
Promising rewards for our granddaughter rakers.
And I long for that acrid sweet smell of burning leaves.
Can be likened to a pyre for the denuded trees.
This made up for our loss of sunny, sandy beaches,
Red ripe tomatoes and juicy peaches.
Get out the goose-down quilt and comfy woolen sweater.
I hope the furnace makes it through the winter.
Our garden has gone to sleep for a long cold while.
I pray I’m here when it wakens with the daffodil.
