Crinkle, squash, swoosh.

The crinkling leaves are produced in time,

Sounds of summer leaving the scene like organized crime.

Colors transform to warm shades as the temperatures decline,

In New England, the seasons almost intertwine.

The harvest period is among us,

We enjoy the seasons produce in surplus.

Rain and the chills prepare us for the work of Jack Frost,

All t shirts and shorts are in the attic, lost.

The seasons change.

The fields are naturally littered with the loss of summer green,

Waiting for the winter snow to decompose and clean.

Nights begin early, and mornings start late,

while the end of school, students await.

The breath seen in early morning is like exhaust,

but the sunny cheer of summer is not lost.

The seasons change.

The change is a freight train.

The change is like a light rain

The seasons change.