Calling in the Fall
The Fall of the year is here, the time we hold so dear
When leaves all turn to such a colour-filled crispness
Frost displays its frozen greeting to all so far and near
Calling crows in the distant field herald in the coolness
James Whitcomb, is that you calling in the Fall, I hear
The rays of a resplendent sun honeycomb woodlands
Grey squirrel and brown deer all do scamper to and fro
As flocks of wild geese are calling in their native bands
Loud knocking of a red-headed woodpecker does echo
James Whitcomb, is that you I hear, calling in the Fall
A frisky wind blows in to sway the trees in all yellows and reds
The forest's carpet fills up with pine straw by a leaf-strewn dale
Small tracks are left, signs of wild creatures, where each treads
As the setting sun bids adieu, this captured scene it does unveil.
James Whitcomb, is that you calling in the Fall once again
On the farm, the red rooster calls, a sentinel of the dawn
Birds all sing in the trees, as chickens cluck to sing along
Smoke escapes the old chimney then, to warm a chilly day
Is now the time that Autumn to come, to put on its display.
James Whitcomb, we all have been inspired
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