The Craftiness of Autumn

Have you ever stopped to ask

Or even stopped to think--

Why colored leaves and a soft wind

Excite people's hearts so?

The coming of autumn, the rush of fall

It's regarded abroad as beauty.

Do people really not see

The danger in leaves, not the colors they should be?

Are our minds so befuddled, our senses so muffled

We do not see the clear and present danger--

In a season so treacherous in nature

And so wily in its doings?

It announces the end of summer, as the weather cools

Leaves start dying and we celebrate the colors they create.

Scarves and coats are pulled out and hot drinks made

We savor the cool weather and rejoice in the new season.

Little do we know, that this cunning season

Is concealing the cool of winter with its breezy weather--

And sunny days leftover from summer

Only to open our eyes on the first day of winter.

It is a surprise then, when our eyes are opened

To a raging blizzard and below 0 temperature--

That we do not see the folly in letting autumn decieve us

She is pretty, but she is fickle.

Disguising the death of a season as an 'october'

Pretending to give us respite from summer heat--

Respite from winter cold

When in reality, she is a dying season, not wanting to let us go.

Have you ever stopped to think of a world with no summer

No winter, no spring

Autumn only, with its dying leaves and folly weather?

Dwell on this, and perhaps it is not too late to save you

From the craftiness of her counterfiet season.