Autumn’s Party

One last party yet to be had,
Before the cold of Winter’s hand,
Chases away from jubilant land,
Autumn’s charm and finery.

She has bedecked her hearth and home,
With glittering gold on birch and beach,
And set ablaze the maples boughs,
With bonfire oranges in their peaks.

Robed in burgundy velvet from oak,
She offers her hand to guide you in,
Embracing you as long-lost kin,
Welcoming you to the party.

Her musky perfume pervades the air,
While you dance on carpet of a thousand hues,
Of scarlet, sienna, bronze and rust,
Each carefully woven through.

And oh the feast to be had,
Her table brimmed with harvest’s best,
As you sit down and take your rest,
Enjoying nature’s bounty.

Autumn thus the perfect host,
Her laughter heard in golden light,
Revels to her heart’s content,
Till stilled by frosty night.