Autumn leaves

Ho!

For the leaves that eddy down,

Crumpled yellow and withered brown,

Hither and yonder and up the street

And trampled under the passing feet;

Swirling, billowing, drifting by,

With a whisper soft and a rustling sigh,

Starting aloft to windy ways,

Telling the coming of bonfire days.

Grace Strickler Dawson, Bonfire Days