Autumn


A Sonnet by Julia Koslowsky

Let me tell you a tale
Of a land ‘cross the sea
Where the crisp winds wail
And the cold comes quickly.
Where drinks flow like brooks
And the fires burn bright
Leaves crunch underfoot
As the sun wanes to night.
Here ancient dwellers
Trade their greens for new hues—
And when the winds bluster,
They shiver, amused.
I have no doubt they would plead you to come
To theirs, the fair land of Autumn.

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