Year: 
2018

Autumn is a dancer,
arrayed in gold and red,
twirling in the meadows,
with leaves upon her head,

She's a storm in the hollows,
that wets the spider's web,
and teams the brooks with minnows,
and lays the bears to bed,

She blesses hearth and home,
with teas and spice and bread,
and fills my eyes with glory,
when summer's green has fled,

She's a fae of the orange moon,
reading books that should not be read,
She's a mystic of the secret,
of the oscillating thead-
that winds between the living,
and the living we thought were dead!

Autumn is a dancer,
arrayed in gold and red,
twirling in the meadow,
with stars above her head.

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