Tuesday, October 10, 2017


 The woods transform
From green to red.
Small creatures build
Their wintry beds.
The radiance of
Summer wanes—displaced
By soft September rains.
As spiders spin
Their silver webs,
The ghostly mists
Of autumn spread.
The nights are trimmed
With candle flames
As autumn’s magic
Fills my days. 

Amelia Dashwood

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