You move me with your cold wind

So true you are to give in

To my desires of color

And blend into the magic that falls

To take cover

And the orange and brown suit

The ground

Taking over as children fall over

Into the piles of leaves

Floating above the grass

Never too fast

 can we rake up the mess

And the wind sings to me

As they loan their colorful

garments off the trees

fully bare they are

and here I see

what can be of nature

brilliantly scarce of coverings

on the trees

forming new truth

for the years to come

as regenerating themselves