BY EMILY BRONTE
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
BY THE NOVICE GARDENER
Oh, the beautiful leaves of Fall
Red, gold, green, and even brown
The yellow ones I like best of all
Down they all go from the tree’s crown
No, don’t blow them off yet
I want as many as my hands can get
What would you need them for, asked the husband
I want to make wreaths, and maybe a garland
Outside it’s raining and it’s windy!
Limp soggy leaves all over my car, how messy!
Blow them off, bag them, I don’t want any!
Of course I still think they’re pretty
But my Tiguan is my baby!
Oh, good grief! I’m better at making leaves in the kitchen. I’ll stick to that, instead.