The trees slowly weep their leaves gently to the ground 

The cold taste of fall slips silently across summer's warm ground

But now it's the dying time 
The vivid yellows and fire roaring orange take the place of the green's life giving splendor 

Sleep my giant friend 
Let the cold hold your head

Whispers the wind to the mighty oak

Fight if you want screams the chill
You are no match for my master 
Jack Frost

He will rule your months of slumber 
Your roots will shiver
Your branches will split and fall

Yes my old friend you will submit to the howls of winter's cries

But it's not your death 
Nor your destruction 

It's your rebirth 
Your time of mental pondering 

So rest and dream of springs scheme 
The one that begins with a single little bud

Right before there is a deafening explosion of color 

Jack and his icy fingers will ride away to their summer grave 

Happy with the knowledge that their work of resetting life is done