Secrets on the Breeze of Time

Secrets on the Breeze of Time

A whisper from the mountains floating on the autumn breeze
reveals a chilling secret known to tantalize and tease;
a pumpkin grins upon the vine awaiting its reward
while knowing it must look its best to rise above the hoard.

The harvest moon is smiling on the golden maple leaves
as if his glowing prominence has given him reprieve;
but Mother Nature, in her wisdom, blows her chilly breath
reminding Mister Moon that summer's met its final death.

Tall cornstalks in the nearby field pass secrets down each row
though not a soul is privy but the lonely, waiting crow.
Come, whisper, autumn breezes; tell us what you have in store.
Just when will Jack be painting frosty pictures on our door?

Don't tease us with your secret and don't chill us with your charm;
we have the blankets waiting but don't want a false alarm.
The mountains see snow coming, autumn leaves can drop in haste,
but Mother Nature won't reveal the date of Jack Frost's taste.

His bite will take the fragile plants, the annuals and such,
and when that frosty morn arrives, we'll know we're in his clutch.