Summer’s essence leaves its notes to Fall’s subtle perfume,
Steaming pots of spikenard scent the autumn new moon.
Swirling, cooled northerly winds; nature’s street sweeper
Loofah the tundra with vigor, scraping summer’s aroma;
Exchanging it for horned baskets in scented stomata,
For pumpkin spiced lattes, hot apple cider or, a cuppa.
And, roaming the sidewalks of summer’s last nightfall,
The Northwind as town crier, his sonorous voice and bell
Proclaims, “hear ye, hear ye, welcome all to Fall!!”