Breathing in the morning Autumn air
Crisp, yet fresh, with only a whisper of cold
The sun still glistens down on my hair
For Winter weather has yet to unfold
With a rake, I begin to ascend
Before me, the stretch of land once green
The disparity of colorful leaves to apprehend
Various shades of brown, red, and yellow to wean
A necessary chore, seldom may say
An esoteric delight, shared by most
Who enjoy the simple comforts of a fall day
To the right, a group of children coming home to boast
Those days are gone, for me that door is closed
Fall used to mean new teachers, assignments, and friends
And now here I rake my lawn with insipid
Yet careful strokes, my neighbors soon commends
A simple task, not to be graded by anyone
Not analogous to the homework assignments from years before
For they will continue from this year forth
The new tradition, of Autumn