Autumn is brown, like a brown paper lunch sack.
It crunches and smashes the year down.
Time slows, before screeching to a halt in Winter.
Autumn has things like school returning to session.
Also, harvesting grains and squashes.
People start to walk slower, wearing scarves.
Autumn uses just a few months but they each taste differently.
September still tastes like beaches and hot dogs.
October is spicy and scary; witches’ brews and candy corn.
Autumn makes people fall in love because the days are sunny.
The nights are just cool enough to hug for all the hours.
By spring time, the lust cools and people waver.
Autumn sounds like Spring, only backwards.
Animals travel, leaves fall, gravity wins more every day.
People rake and pick up bales of hay.
Autumn is when all the poems should be written.
Since all the senses are seduced by the shortening days.
Spices ache on the tongue and winds howl through the trees.
Autumn is jovial yet painstakingly clear:
Life dies and then we sit in hibernal silence.
Autumn is the last chance to cheer for the last ticking seconds.
No comments:
Post a Comment