Come Fall Again
Crisp, chilly evening air.
Prolonged nights greet silent,
pearlescent segments of a far off moon.
Fallen leaves scrape, tumble, and wisk down
village streets, driven on by phantom breezes.
Solitary late night strolls enfold one in
clear, frosty air stinging face and cheeks.
Carved pumpkins glow and illuminate.
Straw-stuffed eerily dressed ghosts adorn porch
and front lawn. Swift fluttering shadows of batwing.
Fallen leaves are raked and burned along street curbs.
The kindled piles of crisp leaves become
gathering points for neighbors and conversation.
They add light to the gathering dusk. Aromatic smoke
wafts skyward, dissolving eerily in the night air.
Parade and snake dance. Marching band
and fight song. Cheerleaders and wagon rides.
Homecoming celebration and bonfire.Caramel apples
and tangy cider. Halloween. Costumed children
begging sweet treats. The laughing ghouls of "All Hallows."
Harvest blades drone endlessly through frosty cold
night hours. Night air carries echoing sounds of reaping,
drying down, and storing. The gray fingers of
ghost-like clouds fly and soar, grasping to hold
the fathomless purple deep.
Festival and homecoming. Bounty and long abiding
friendship. Nights reveling in age-old ghost stories.
Hearts warmed near great wood fires. A season of
fruition. Gathering, sharing, caring. October.
Come Fall Again
10-6-15
Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015
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