The golden leaves descend with grace,
A soft, serene, and gentle pace,
Beneath the trees, a quilt unfurls,
In shades of amber, reds, and pearls.
Crisp air whispers through the boughs,
As morning frost begins to drowse,
The scent of earth and firewood,
Embraces all as autumn should.
Shadows lengthen, days grow brief,
A time for quiet, for belief,
In natureâs cycle, death, and birth,
A time of peace, of inward mirth.
Under skies of muted hues,
The heart finds solace, gently views,
The beauty in the fading light,
As fall prepares its long goodnight.