Firethorn's Den

Fall Prevailing

There's something to be said
about the fading of summer,
when the air starts to crisp,
and the scent of dry leaves
penetrates the walls of awareness,
even the sounds of chatting birds
start to thin out in dawn light,
and you wonder why they left.

I can almost imagine
the excitement playing out
in the pumpkin fields;
each pumpkin visualizes
what face people would make
them wear to thrill children
on the scary hallow eve: ghouls,
witches, clowns, any would do.

I can almost smell hot cider
and pumpkin pies, and feel
the softness of downy comforter
caress my skin. I can't wait
to see the fiery glow
of the trees at the throes
of passion when they surrender
themselves to the peak of autumn.

 

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