Shortened days and foggy morns
Announce Summer's end it's said,
But nothing signals Autumn near
Like Dogwood drupes hanging red.

September squirrels rain Hickory nuts
Down upon the hunter's head,
But nothing signals Autumn near
Like Dogwood drupes hanging red.

Smells from kitchens old and new
Mean apple pies and pumpkin bread,
But nothing signals Autumn near
Like Dogwood drupes hanging red.

We see the trees begin to change
And Poplar crowns soon to shed,
But nothing signals Autumn near,
Like Dogwood drupes, hanging red.