Down home when the trees turn all burnt and colorful to see,
I go down to the crick to look for bittersweet for ma and me.
We set the table all pretty with glassware and such.
Ma always has a flare for table settings and has the touch.
Pa stacks the wood for the winter, and we get ready for the ice and snow.
Now that autumn is here, we have no more fields to mow.
The walking sticks are stuck to the screens on the doors;
An I like to walk down the steps to the yard and smell the wood fire
from the burning leaves that ma swept from the porch floors.
'Lil sis is playing on the hay bales out in the field that is a picture in gold and tan.
Ma has fresh corn frying in the frying pan.
The biscuits are piled high on Ma's blue china plate,
and me and sis poured out 'lasses' and ate and ate.
Pa drinks his coffee 'pipin' hot from his saucer where it cooled,
And Ma said Pa never could be fooled.
Pa fed the chickens and slopped the pigs,
And Pa said ‘lil sis could help when she was big.
I like to milk 'ol Bessie down at the barn and bring up the churn.
Ma lets me help and take a turn.
The butter is sweet and pretty in the molds.
It tastes real good, but we eat too much, and Ma scolds.
It the morning the air is right 'arish', and me and ‘lil sis stand by the stove.
Pa is already ‘fishin’ down by the cove.
Maybe we will have fish and buttermilk for supper and some of Ma's good blackberry cobbler.
It won't be long till we get to taste the big gobbler.
I like the fall of the year for sure.
It makes everything seem cold, crisp and pure.
Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@msn.com)