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There is a touch of Autumn
Lingering in the air.
The leaves are falling downward
And trees will soon be bare.
The grass is turning yellow
And birds are on the wing.
It won't be long until
We have forgotten Spring.

The harvest moon is coming
And long walks in the woods.
We'll build a roaring campfire
And put on our jacket hoods.

Cold cheeks in late October
And the making of S'Mores
Reminds us of the wonder
Of going out-of-doors.