In the perfect conditions, we have mushrooms growing in Texas.
A season of falling leaves
And hibernation trees
Of gathering and hoarding
Of frosty, sparkling, misty morning.
A season for crunching and munching
For chestnut roasting
And crumpet toasting
For bonfire flames dancing
In the midnight air.
A season for listening
To racing winds whistling
Through sleepy undressed branches
And for children chasing the host
Of whistling, twirling fallen leaves.