The In-Between….

The golden light grows soft and low,
The days grow short, the evenings cool,
As summer's vibrant, fiery glow
Gives way to autumn's changing rule.

A crispness in the morning air,
A scent of woodsmoke, dry and deep,
The world prepares with tender care
For the long, promised, gentle sleep.

The green of leaves begins to fade,
To blushes of amber and red,
A final, brilliant masquerade
Before the branches stand unmanned.

The cricket's song, a steady beat,
Now sounds a little more forlorn,
A melancholy, bittersweet
Hymn to the season that's been born.

So let us breathe this changing in,
This perfect, fleeting, in-between,
And let the quiet peace begin
As autumn paints the passing scene.