At Change Of Season Poem by Raymond Farrell

Birds are gathering on the wire
The sun a blazing ball of fire
Slowly sets in the autumn sky
Shorter cooler days answer why
Flocks of geese are flying by.

Trees wholly stripped uncolored stand
Like skeletons they haunt the land
Smoke wisps slowly upward rise
Boldly suspended in the skies
Their stillness tranquility belies.

The garden plot's are wretched thing
No flowers bloom, no songbirds sing
The picture of death and decay
Unhid by the fading light of day
Is written on the barren upturned clay.

The warmth my soul longingly desires
Is only found by household fires
Where gallant tales are told
Written in some books of old
Only read when days are cold.