Near the end of summer

Dawn is turning chilly

Brown leaves twirling, falling

Like tots dancing silly

Song birds fallen quiet

For baby birds have grown

No squawking months to feed

Youth hunting on their own

Flowers begin to fade

My garden slips toward sleep

As leaves turn bright yellow

I feel no need to weep

As summer comes to close

And garden starts to rest

Pictures I have taken

Reveal I met my quest

When winter months are here

The planning will begin

For next year's garden quest

Will warm me from within