Colours abound rush through the skies,
that never seem to spread lies.
Their display show us who they are,
always showing their truth like a shining star.
The wind carries them on its wings,
through the blue skies they seem as kings.
Royal robes draped over their skins,
only ever donned when the nip begins.
Heat starts to wayne,
as cold, its place gains.
That sweet meridian that looms,
only for a short time blooms.
A second spring to bless our eyes,
another array to grace the skies.
Seamless changes of time's hold,
never seeming to not be bold.
For a short time they came,
the royal leaves of Autumn sang.
Winter now we welcome once again,
as it claims the Autumn glen.