A Last Curtain Call

Leaves in vibrant hues of autumn
Lying huddled deep and crisp against the railings.
Crunching underfoot on paths,
Scuttling across grass in a rambunctious race
Before becoming airborne in a swirling vortex
Of yellows and reds.

The soughing of the wind in the tall trees
Mixing with children's voices
Borne on the air from distant games.

Visitors expected from the northlands today,
Grandchildren rarely seen,
Shy and strange in our house,
Fearful of cameras and blips.
No need to worry now,
The Meadows are unprotesting,
Anxious to be seen in their Autumn glory,
A last curtain call before winter.