Children of Autumn

what scoundrels these spoiled-brat autumn winds huffing, puffing whimsically lifting the checked skirt of nature itself spinning their windswept feet among the ancient oaks carefree oaks with limbs swaying, dancing like gypsies embrace the azure, adorned with a radiant sun half-drunk always celebrating illuminate the frivolous leaves, falling blushing in freshly painted hues of orange, mustard yellow and red such a joyous mosaic ofreverie what scoundrels these spoiled-brat autumn winds…