Freeze dried leaves cling in Crepe Myrtle trees
Hanging on tight despite a stiffening breeze
Lady bugs and wasps linger by the door to get inside
Looking for a warm place to hide
Leaves tumbled from the Maple leaving branches clear
Yet the buds for next spring are already here
As the sun slowly retreats, skies are fair
There’s a hint of wood smoke in crisp air
The last rays of sun are now lost
Darkness of night brings on a frost
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