Autumn's rusty leaves
Are a veritable feast
Of red, brown and gold.
I hear them crunch and crackle
As I walk along
This time honoured, tree lined grove.
Another year will
Soon be coming to an end,
And I desire to
Absorb Nature's rich harvest,
Before the advent
Of bitter winds and darkness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem