When autumn’s breath descends upon the trees,

  The air is crisp with whispers, rich and low,

  And leaves in fiery hues drift on the breeze.

  The branches, once so full, begin to seize

  A fading green, then burn with amber glow,

  When autumn’s breath descends upon the trees.

  The fields are bare, save for the golden sheaves,

  The harvest gathered, skies with shadows grow,

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  And leaves in fiery hues drift on the breeze.

  The woodlands hum with rustling as they please,

  Each gust unbinds the boughs from leaves they sow,

  When autumn’s breath descends upon the trees.

  The days grow short, a sense of calm and ease,

  While sunsets blaze, then sink to evening’s show,

  And leaves in fiery hues drift on the breeze.

  The year prepares for rest, as nature frees

  The last of warmth before the first winds blow.

  When autumn’s breath descends upon the trees,

  And leaves in fiery hues drift on the breeze.