Winter is coming 

The autumn leaves call

As they dance and float

And gracefully fall

Onto the pavements

Where they blow around

Clump in the corners

Not making a sound 

Then caught by a gust

They rustle and swirl

Like crisps in a pack

They scrunch and unfurl

Swept by a sweeper

And drenched by the rain

They hustle and dry

To start once again

Their yellows and browns

Oranges and greens

They shout this is Autumn