False Fall

Hot and still, the clinging air

Hangs heavy ‘neath the summer sun,

And only bravest souls do dare

To leave the cooler shades of home.

But hark! there stirs a fresh’ning breath,

And through the browning leaves aloft,

Through branches tall, near swallow’s nest,

“Soon autumn comes!”, there whispers soft.

The oak and maple bend and sway

And carry forth the cheering sound

Of wind and rustling leaves so gay,

That promise hence new season’s bound.