Autumn falls
In sheets of creek breeze
Creeping down into town
From the valleys of the north.

We sit on Pappy’s porch rocker
And rock the night away
To the slapping of the bass fiddle
And the six string’s lullaby.

Days go by.
Years, even,
Though time is frozen still.

We walk the same hills we walked
When our days were young
And there was magic in the dusk.
But the magic is still there.
Still here.
Resting in the shadows of the mighty oak.
Crawling down the old main drag at midnight.

Autumn falls on strong yet delicate wings.
We rise, we fall.
We live.