Another day, a new sound. 
Cicadas are chirping, “Six weeks till winter.” 
A cool, crisp breeze blows wispy hairs, tickling my face. 
Big, yellow buses fill with anticipation, 
 safely bringing children of all ages to their destination. 
 
Shorter days, longer shadows. 
The sea of green slowly turning golden. 
Enormous machines crawl over the vast hills 
gathering an abundant harvest. 
 
One harvest ends, another starts. 
Large, green vines, once full of life, start to die. 
Bountiful produce yet to come is revealed 
shades of yellow, orange, white, and green can be seen, 
dancing through the field, bringing new life. 
The abundant harvest picked by working hands can be found on neighboring stoops, 
welcoming in the new season. 
 
Barn doors close, machines are tucked away. 
Trees, once full of life, are bare, 
leaves scattering the surrounding ground. 
Another season ends, a new one starts bearing new possibilities.