Strolling down the path, a new Feeling comes whisking through.

Slightly Familiar, Like an old Aged friend whispering howdy-do.

The old routine Lullaby, has seemed to change tune, 

and day's Light, is sooner chased away by the moon.

Trees become bare, In need of cover,

Their dressings Slowly float down, in momentary hover.

The infinite leaves, all Colors askew,

lay peaceful Over the earth, collecting dew.

Frosty Mornings are cool and refreshing,

Indeed a sure sign that the seasons are changing.

Excitement brews, for old and New traditions,

the seasonal activities, passed down for Generations.