Slumbering now.
Beneath Winter's cowl,
soldiers of Fall
hear reveille's call.
Campaign's begun.
The heat of the sun
stripping away
the final delay.
The mustered troops
from crannies and stoops
gather around
with rustling sound.
The march begins
commanded by Winds,
skirmishing hard
across the backyard.
Doing his share
by ruling the air,
Maple will lead,
a whirlwind of seed.
Out on the flank
in rank upon rank,
Willow Tree whips
his soldiers in strips.
Stoic old Pine
will stately decline.
No needles sent
in peaceful dissent.
The oak and beech
now twirl to reach
a quiet site
to sit out the fight.
From neighbor's land
the elm leaves demand
to join the fray
for places to stay.
All is for naught,
for they've all been caught.
By end of day
Dad's raked them away.