In the Spring, I was a child
Sometimes timid, sometimes wild
Summer was fast and brisk
Scornful of danger or risk
In the Autumn, at my best
Seasoned, mellow, ready for Rest
Passing thought…

In the Autumn, what would I do?
I don’t know, I have no clue!
Summer sunshine turns winter grey,
There is no Fall where I stay!


For Jenny Matlock’s Saturday Centus