The Last Leaf

I’m not sure why every leaf must die,

vibrant green life turns brown and dry.

The first sign is the air turns cold,

Autumn turns the leaves red and gold.

Then Winter’s chill hits the air,

the biting wind doesn’t care.

The last leaf hits the snowy ground,

no more green can be found.

Why this happens, I just don’t know,

but the fallen leaves are buried under snow.

Whatever the reason is for this thing,

the leaves will return in the Spring.

Here in New England

The frost crackled under my feet,

What a change from summer’s heat.

The leaves are falling from the trees,

Drifting slowly on autumn’s breeze.

Winter’s chill will soon be here,

Bringing snow and Christmas cheer.

Next comes spring and the rain,

Washing away the cold, icy pain.

Summer comes back once again,

Like a favorite, lifelong friend.

Round and round the seasons go,

Here in New England they put on a show.