The time of each year that snaps us awake.
Out of the doldrums of late summers bake.
The switch that is thrown, for trees, colors to make.
And families unite for activities sake.
The chill in the morn' being quiet refrain.
Warm afternoons have natures disdain.
The drone of the bee in its last search for nectar.
The squirrels stock their nests as winters protector.
The smell in the air of hot cider, and burnt leaves.
Makes us rejoice in the brilliance of the trees.
The tweak on your skin by a chill in the morning.
Is all you will get of a cold winters warning.
So enjoy the crisp air, the colors, the feelings.
Of Autumns great show and its ex-cited dealings.
Reflect on this time, it is special and dear.
And oh so short to exist, as the best time of year.
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