I wrote up this little poem about fall in response to the roundel challenge at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Now where’s my hot cider?

Summer’s face has turned away
and winter’s chill is calling.
Skyblue sky turned steely gray,
autumn is falling.

The pumpkin vines are sprawling.
Frost arrived and plans to stay,
but summer lawns are stalling

Apples sweeten by the day,
and corn’s piled high for hauling.
Jewel-toned maples swing and sway,
autumn is falling.