Can Winter Be Far Behind - Greta's Poetry

Comes Autumn – with her golden glow,
Turning the trees to bronze and gold,
The harvest moon, sailing o’er the sky
And bats go winging, as nights grow cold.

Night frosts now creeping o’er valley floors,
Busy bees and wasps seeking winter haven,
Squirrels gathering nuts for winter store;
Whilst the tall holly tree is berry ladened!