Out walking this morning I felt the first breaths of autumn upon my face and as I contemplated it's arrival it whispered a poem in my ear. Four syllables less a line and it would have been a quintilla.
The Hawthorn Tree
I feel the chill of autumn faintly here and there,
Whispering lullabies within the morning air,
Go find your golden robe and stunning crimson dress,
And as a final touch, certain to impress,
Sow rubies in your fading emerald hair.