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.
Copyright © Paul Schneiter | Year Posted 2014
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