Orange Is the New Autumn

Orange is the new Autumn, and my pumpkin spice candle. First flicker in the stovebox, stick match on the mantle. Warm bisque on the burner canning jars off the shelf, crooked stack of split maple, unstacking itself. Leaves whistle past the garden through tomato stake tombs, now a chicken wired graveyard of yellow squash bones. Sun`s backing to the door holding all the summer days, dealing out darkness, 8 months until May. Soon the hills will be Auburn, the sky sullen gray, my 70th winter, life is good think i`ll stay.