Posted in Poem

A “seasonal anomaly”

Crisp is the air with fallen leaves dried up and ready to ruffle;
Brisk birds are begirding the town as daylight breaks the sky.
Rare is the day with warmth bound to reflect of the quay;
Brats, Cubs, Boys and Girls are planning an outdoor gambol.

Autumn is the season, yet the rise in Mercury stirs up souls;
The sailors are ready to undock their boats in brief.
Sunny is the call, the weatherman made not just for shoals;
The bikers are unchaining their helmets to go on the reef.

Green is still the color, the grass withering the season;
The greenskeepers and growers are out to rake and mulch.
Frigid is the ground, the frost affecting the vegetation;
The runners and skaters are drying up their sweaty drench.

Change is the order, what the day brings with it;
Confounded and Elated, All welcoming it.
To each is his own, their love for the Sun;
A "seasonal anomaly", sure, every now and then.