Falling Leaves

The breezes blow, the leaves drift down
And settle on the grass.
Before we blink an eye, we know
This, too, shall come to pass.

For soon the trees will all be bare
As winter makes its mark.
We'll wake and have our evening meal
Both when it's nearly dark.

The icicles will form and drip;
We'll watch them while indoors
And jackets made of down or wool
Will fill the racks in stores.

But wait! I've jumped the gun a bit,
For leaves still mostly cling
As I await the changes
That the autumn winds will bring.