New Years Rhyme

London fog in stem covered meadows reaching the colored yew.

The swaying of the branches making circles in pots of stew.

When the flavor reaches it's peak.

The beauty trees find hard to keep.

Seasons leaves fall through drops of dew.

And wash away to autumn new.

The autumn leaves fall flailing their arms.

Onto the pillow of nature has darned.

Peace be to the leaves falling with care.

Giving the earth hope for new year.