The Sweet dank earth,
With winters chill clung to the breeze.
Inward we now look; inward its does not freeze.
Our thoughts at rest, our hearts are at ease.
A time to take stock; on what has been reaped.
A time of transition as day turns to night.
It’s the time of our Ancestors,
The time we unite; among autumns falling leaves.
Claudia Romelia Blake