Friday, September 19, 2008


The pumpkins are groaning
Out on their vines;
The leaves turning orange, red, and yellow.
There’s a chill in the air
And the scarecrow won’t care
For he’s just a jolly old fellow.
But the cats and the crows
Turn their cold golden eyes
Toward the flicker of light
In the hollow
As the moon’s on the rise
In October night skies.
We know that the stars
Soon will follow.


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