Autumn

A clinging coolness in the morning air Makes boyhood autumns live once more— Blue-ribbon produce at the county fair, Father trimming a newly sticking door. Walking to school on frost-crusted leaves, I worry about what awaits me in fifth grade. Water dripping from icicles hanging on eaves Temporarily distracts me from being afraid. I develop a crush on my teacher, Miss Hales. She stirs something mysterious inside me. It’s clear in this season I will face new trails, Including the allurement of a grown-up she. Peers make light of the patches on my coat Lovingly stitched by my Mother one night. I find it unseemly they are wont to gloat, But they are unaware of my family’s plight. Radio was the rage during my tender years. I ran home after school to hear more and more Spoken by heroes who vanquished all fears. While real heroes were dying in the gore of war. Autumn’s advent brings a flurry of emotions. They happen like snowfall year after year. I smile at them now, noting boyish notions, But morning air leads me to hold them dear.