A gust of wind, and down they come, 'Tis snowing autumn leaves; A fleece of gold lies on the ground, But it is safe from thieves. They flutter here and flutter there, The air is filled with gold; They drift in heaps against the wall, And cover up its mold. A yellow splash against the blue -- A lonely cottonwood, 'Twill soon be stripped of glory grand -- But that is understood. The world that bloomed in summertime, A beauty to behold, With Midas touch of Jack Frost's hand, Has changed to Autumn Gold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR TWO SEASONS: 1. AFTER GRAVE ILLNESS by CAROL FROST THE EXPANDED COMPOSITION by CLARENCE MAJOR |