Autumn to a T

Awake my soul to face the cold of Autumn's deadly chill;

  teeming below the billowing ore, leaves sure do abide the shore.

Ubiquitous fog clouds the dross of a shadow's timely cross.

  Tapered branches bleed like snow to leave the course to rot below.

Time, so small, in soft recourse slows the mind to show remorse.

  Travel discourse carefully, never minding anarchy.

Unapt rivals come prepared -

 Tumultuous winds chill the air.

Many fires warming couples

  Near their chair and their duffles.