...

Fall is just starting to peek its lovely head around the corner (at least where I live). Here's a little poem to celebrate.

I heard the mushroom choir,
They sung their silent dirge:
"Summer is now fast asleep,
Awaken moss, fen and fog,
And keep your hold 'til winter."

Rain hemmed me into itself,
Pointillistic legions,
Heavy, softer, heavier still,
It bade me to and fro,
'Til at last I fell in line.

Before I was beleaguered,
Now part of something more,
"Fill each small place I see here!
Let nothing dry remain!"
I cry with my new company.