Poetry

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Autumn

Autumn, swirling around us in vibrant hues of amber, goldenrod, brick and sage.
Clouds, the color of ash, hanging low in the sky, heavy with rain.
Misty mornings, slow to shed light on a world reluctant to let go of a long pleasant summer.
Evenings that creep in like the tide, coming closer with each arrival.
Chilly, frosty "I can see my breath" kind of days.
Umbrellas, rain coats, flannel work shirts.
Espresso stands swamped with orders for steamy creamy mochas.
Wood stoves filled with alder and birch, radiating heat.
Smoke that rises over sleepy little towns, gently unfurling into a think line, until it gradually disappears.
School buses loaded with runny nosed children.
Football games, home coming dances, toga parties.
Pumpkins, squash, cornstalks bent over, almost touching the ground.
Gardens exhausted from an abundance of zucchini.
Blustery, dusky, windy and wet,
Autumn, swirling around us in golden hues.

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