The air feels smooth and cool as I draw in a refreshing breath.
Fall has fallen on this urban land and the leaves dance in the wind.
It’s awfully amazing how alive the dying season can seem,
Like a city going down in flames of ginger, crimson and gold
Almost like a stunning disaster, the beauty in the down fall.
The yellow sun seeps down through the shedding trees,
Like a beacon of hope that the green foliage will return again.
Autumn, the time for poetry and knowledge
Unlike its newly completed companion, summer,
A time for playfulness and sweet love.
It is a bright flicker of color before the world is wrapped in white
Like the lick of a candle before the flame is extinguished
And the curling smoke cascades upwards into darkness.
It is the final call of the reddened cardinals
Before the silence of winter envelope us for a handful of chilled months.
As the atmosphere grows icy and noses turn to a timid shade of pink,
And fair skinned fingers are slipped into toasty gloves
We recognize that this fading season is a fresh beginning.
A time for new things and new people
A time for bad habits and old obsessions to die away.
Autumn is the last desperate breath before this hell freezes over.