By Lynn Elder
Of all the seasons, I have one that is dear
Not one that brings lots of fear
Due to storms and massive rain
That do bring damage and pain.
A season that is mild and still
Where mists can swirl until
A warm sun breaks through the cloud
While a farmer has his crops sowed.
The icy fingers of winter are yet to arrive
But a touch of dew does give
A sense of coolness yet to come
That will make your body numb.
No other season can give such golden hues
And call for blessings from the pews
While nature chooses from the richest spectrum
Of colours to woo us all so we all left dumb.
PHOTOS: Lynn Elder