O birds of hopedon't flock to migrateWinter's approaching,a less hurried gaitLet's pick our cropssoft and mellowBefore joys rustand turn to yellowWe'll gather grins,plum and ripenNo squandered tears,ample dreams brightenOur diligent pursuit,we're creatures awakeFor when life's frost bites,survival hibernatesLet's tap and dancein a feast of harvestwhile the scarlet discgives in to darknessThe sun shall tiltdropping her last golden locksThe mist will fillto chill empty docksPerched larks of glee,chirp for me till dawnSweet songs to echothrough a season forlorn.By Rania D.