A little lame poetry

Sometimes I get the urge to write a poem, and then I realize why I'm not a famous poet. But I'd thought I'd share my sad attempt.

The Coming of Fall

Fall is coming.
I feel it in the way
the trees bend ever so slightly
in the breeze and how the
leaves yearn to be tinged
with another color other than
green.

I see it in the faces of the
students as they walk home
knowing they have to study for
midterms, and wishing beyond
wish they could be doing anything
else.

I smell it in the crisp air
that blows past my face
and drifts up the mountains
cooling the evening sky
and calming the nerves of small
creatures.

And on a day like today I
want to be out there, soaking
up the late summer rays,
reveling in the perfect weather,
enjoying anywhere but where I
am.