by Esther M Clark-Hill
Wilful Lady Autumn Coming down the lane; Here, a glint of sunshine, There, a gust Of rain,
And a stray wind a-whimpering against the window pane.
Lovelier and wilder In her tawny gown, Bordered 'round with yellow, Red and russet-brown,
Than ever Lady Summer was, when she came back to town.
Greyer are her skies than Summer's ever known; In the wind's deep voice there Comes a fretful tone;
And here are scarlet berries where a rose once held her own.
Softly, Lady Autumn, Go by hill and glade, In your gypsy colours Flauntingly arrayed:
Of just such transient beauty Lady Summer’s grave was made.
Art by Tomasz Alen Kopera
Text and image source: Petie Barre https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid0hqMEmMhdjQhTCZbdEpo4hetadhYLgmi5eBCMTc9J35Q1ZbgLiSJKKmV1E9dcb6zil&id=100032362197041