The Bridge

The Bridge Trees clothed in blazing yellows and flaming reds reach towards the sky in gentle supplication, preparing for their naked winter. Fat orange pumpkins are last gasp of fallow fields. Warm, pleasant days give way to frosty nights. Apples give of themselves to make the sweet nectar that warms us. Bushy tailed rodents squirrel away nuts and bears grow fat in anticipation of the long cold season ahead. Time slows and matures as winter approaches. Fall is that short bridge between frenetic summer and still winter. I am in the Fall Crossing that short bridge Winter grows closer.