Beneath yellow trees,
Wading through leaves
In places knee-deep.
Hearing dry whispers
Of nodding trees,
Already dreaming
Muttering in sleep.
By the creek path
The wind feels wintry,
I can almost see
Snow dancing before me.
The squirrels and rabbits
Are on patrol,
Foraging for food
At the urging of crows.
Soon the woods
Will be lost in wintry sleep,
The trees entranced
With visions of spring.