First Hints Of Fall Poem by David Welch

I feel it in the morning dim,
when I head out to drive to work,
a bite of chill that saps the vim,
tough now it seems just a flirt.

Again, when I drive home later,
auburn fringe of a maple tree,
soon to attract the spectators,
from the dull steel of the city.

I spot it in a gaudy sign
that advertises back-to-school,
weighs heavily in children's minds,
all bemoaning a fate so ‘cruel.'

Next, in the light of our great sun,
more slanted than it was before,
the light feels like it's tired, done,
ever retreating, more and more.

At dusk I hear the geese fleeing,
they are making for the south too,
their constant honks sound like bragging,
"We're out of here, sucks to be you."

And on the roads more deer will go,
the rut is only weeks away,
cars must avoid scrambling does
chased by bucks looking for play.

Most will bemoan the summer's end,
but I think I am fine with it,
never fond of heat that offends,
or insects…I always get bit.

Soon I can go out for a walk
without having to sweat at all,
no mosquitoes or chiggers stalk,
I welcome these first hints of fall.