A haunting sound is heard softly whistling,
by Isam Hussain
like a magic flute in the distance playing,
luring summer leaves to hum and sway,
to don new colours, dance and play;
and like a Mexican Wave the merriment spreads:
an infectious mood carried by autumn's winds.
The Autumn Ball is now in full swing,
oblivious to the fate autumn must bring.
The sound grows louder, the party raucous,
the swaying erratic, the movement vigorous,
and like whirling Dervishes unable to stop,
autumn leaves begin to drop.