Autumn (a Poem)


Apples, red and green, spilling from the trees.

Pulling pumpkins from the garden, everything’s deceased.

Spices wafting up from pie, cobblers dripping oats,

fruity cider with cinnamon, hot drinks begin to flow.

Football games outdoors require hoods and fleece.

Watch the breath mist out, squeezing hands up long sleeves.

Smoke billows from houses as fireplaces are lit,

pulling blankets out while checking slippers’ fit.

Trees of sugar maple, birch, elm, ash and oak

reveal their fading colors – red, orange, maroon and gold.

Leaves crunch underfoot, frost glitters across the lawn.

Berries pop from hid’n branches during fall’s crisp morning dawn.

So many sounds, smells, tastes and touches of the season,

it rolls on by too quick then its winter and we’re freezin’.

Published by Dawn M. Paul

I am an artist and writer at Come take a mental rest with me.

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