Member Poem

Ten months into a year, the trees,
by gradual abscission, sheds.
Their leaves– by now turned gold and red–
which spurs a crimson tide to spread
blessed by the sun, low overhead
to thread the Autumn days with ease.

Alluring beauty lies around
’twixt earth and sky and shining sea,
and through the month casts ceaselessly.
A spell of soft tranquility,
which merely hovers easily
above the world deprived of sound.

Although the cold begins to roam
with breaths that sting the fair terrain;
although the drops pouring rain
may add to all the given pain–
know nothing in the world can stain
the quality that charms our home.

And all about the peaceful scene
a surging scent starts to pervade
through day, through night, most loath to fade.
thus none can in the least evade
the pumpkin, leaf, and raindrop made
Perfume– the smell of Halloween.