In the air there's a hint of the season ahead
That is already crouched at the door
The flowers are asleep in their little earth beds
And brown and bare is the moor
The last leaves of fall go fluttering by
Like little brown birds on the wing
Leaving the trees bare and shivering
In the chill that the season doth bring
Clouds from the North with their burden of snow
Born along on winds strong and cold
Will soon spread a blanket of white or a world
Suddenly grown tired and old
But while the world outside is awaiting
The impact of winters first storm
We'll gather closer about the bright blaze
Of the hearth that is glowing and warm.