Autumn’s Call The air grows crisp, my heart a drone,
yellow and russet leaves whirl,
dancing to a gentle tune of decay,
as the world prepares for rest.

Mists brush the valleys in wisps,
where the last blooms tremble in fading light,
while acorns drop their secrets
into the soft embrace of the forest floor.

Autumn, with your breathtaking palette,
you captivate my soul with nostalgia;
your beauty is fleeting,
but it resonates like a fading echo.

• Ruth Padel