Autumn lingers on the evening air,
As the sun warms even the bluest sky to a pastel orange.
The days remain muggy and a little warm,
Whilst the evenings are fresher and dry.
Autumn hovers but dares not enter,
As Summer seems rather loathe to go.
But soon the trees will lose their leaves,
And Jack Frost will start his dewy displays.
Summer will be gone, but not forgotten,
And Autumn will be seen by the fire’s glow.