The North Wind does blow, <br /> His chilly fingers on my face <br /> Tell me it is time to go - <br /> To leave our mountain home <br /> And seek a warmer clime <br /> Before ice forms on the lake. <br /> How can winter be so close? <br /> The woods are alive with color - <br /> Yellow, yellow and more yellows <br /> Of every shade and hue - <br /> Reds and orange, browns and russet too. <br /> Autumn having her last fling <br /> Before submitting to Winter's icy sting.<br /><br />Aletha Rappaport<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/october-in-the-mountains/
