The sun sinks lower on the horizon each day
In the woods it is no longer time for play
Buried nuts all gathered - nests and burrows prepared
The trees shedding leaves until limbs all bared

Crunching sounds can be heard everywhere
Of inhabitants busily scurrying here and there
Through carpet of orange, russet, red and gold
As they get ready for the impending cold

Each day sounds decrease little by little
Until no sound is heard – not even a whistle
The air getting colder and colder until
Everything starts to turn white and all still

Summer days have gone - fallen into winter days
The inhabitants snuggled into their beds to stay
Cozy and prepared for the dark days of gray
Until winter springs into warm bright summer days