All the leaves have fallen,
desertin' all the trees,
a chill wind is a-callin',
winter whispers on the breeze
Autumn is the season,
reckon it's the best of all,
my sleep may be the reason
'cause I catch up in the fall
The clock, I'm watchin' close,
too soon its gettin' dark,
and early in the mornin'
ol' Reb, he starts to bark
I done all the fence mended,
the wood is cut and stacked,
now, I can hunker down a spell,
just let myself lean back.
© 2005, Tamara Hillman
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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