It's ironic that everything is so alive
just before everything dies.
the red orange golden leaves stutter in the breeze
as if waving goodbye.
The sun glances down some mornings,
but it's fleeting
for then the rain comes.
it is a time of bon fires
and pumpkin spiced everything.
when comforters crawl out of closets
draped over saggy shoulders.
When children bury themselves under the leaves
like animals
and spring from the earth
like bears.
Autumn is upon us for but a moment
a fleeting glimmer of sunlight
before we tuck into winter.