As leaves turn gold and crimson red,
The whispers of autumn softly spread,
A time of harvest, a season’s end,
Nature’s beauty on full extend.

Crisp air carries tales untold,
Of summer’s warmth and winter’s cold,
A bridge between the warmth and chill,
A moment’s pause, the world stands still.

Beneath the trees, a carpet laid,
Of fallen leaves in hues displayed,
A symphony of color bright,
As day turns into tranquil night.

The scent of earth, the crunch of leaves,
A gentle breeze that softly weaves,
Through branches bare and skies so blue,
Autumn’s magic, old yet new.