I crave the days
when frost kisses my toes through my boots
and the few leaves left on trees
flutter down to
crunch, deliciously,
under my feet.

I miss the memories of
leaning into the wind,
letting it fill the gaps in my coat and
thinking, just maybe, I could fly.

Hot sips of drinks
between my lips,
filling my throat and lungs
with a warmth irreplaceable.

A season of change, but of calming
of settling into ones skin
metamorphosis and yet
simple enjoyment
of all the little things.