I want you to know
That I love you more
Than all of my Octobers
Which is not to say
There are a lot of them
Even though there are
But what I mean is
I love you more warmly
Than hot cinnamon apple cider
On a brisk autumn morning
When I can just see my breath
I love you more festively
Than pumpkins, gourds
And Indian corn
Decorating a porch
I love you more crisply
Than the crunch of brown
And red and yellow leaves
Underneath my boots
But most of all
I love you more deeply
Than the good candies
I keep digging for
All the way down
To the bottom of the pillowcase
During the long walk home
At the end of the night
After all of the front stoops
Have gone dark.
Russet sunset overpowering coolness of the day
Showing herself in reds and yellows,
Streaking through October’s pumpkin patches
Straw scarecrows decorating autumn porches
With their stationary smiles and their googly eyes
Staring from fall displays of gourds and Indian corn
Banana bread and pumpkin bread smells
Wafting from the kitchen of the ones who care
About russet sunsets, the ones who decorate their porches
With the reds, yellows, oranges, and browns of autumn
Enhancing her in every way, celebrating the beginning of cools,
Showing their playful sides, in the most melodic ways.
Squirrels with fluffy tails scurrying with walnuts,
Deer crunching through the leaf ground,
Autumn magic smiling her truth.
September slipped in on the wind
a gentle light breeze of warmth
sliding in between the clouded sky
pale blue powder dusting the sun.
The garden yawned preparing for rest
each flower breathed a last final effort
a bloom ready to rest to return in spring
blinking sleepily at the end of a season.
Labored day stretching into autumn arrivals
of pumpkin oranges and decorative colored gourds
dried Indian corn ready for the herds feeding
pacing through the dry fields of brown beige.
Grasslands lose their colors bending
inching closer to embrace the earth
soaking in the final rays of summer light
to sleep in the arms of winter approach.
September turns the calendar
sun and fun ease in to slow
where time inches forward
looking back to where it's been.
October ochre sage writhes betwixt winter’s loom and the summers gone astray
Chartreuse spilling out of season’s way to darker afternoons bewitched by greys
Tainted tinge of hints upon newly painted trees and then plumes are plucked and fade away
Ocarina songs of birds once heard in winds becomes ossia as only silence plays
Brood does the bitter frost to traverse across the earth to lay
Evening into stronger shadow, where the lunar clutches hallow skies to longer stay
Reigns the fall in crowns of pumpkins and Indian corn, until the snowflake flood rains upon autumn parades
My pure white pumpkin,
well, maybe more a gourd,
was given to me, free.
Now that, I can afford!
I mustn't waste this gift,
for it came from the heart.
I'll plan it out well,
before I even start.
An eye hole goes here,
then a sinister sneer.
A carved scar or two,
maybe even pointed ears.
No! That's not right.
It seems so common,
for just one night,
to scare some hob-goblins.
Ah, I know just what I'll do,
to enjoy this sweet gift.
Here on the table, it will sit,
to give my centerpiece a lift.
I'll add colorful leaves,
some nuts and twigs.
A few Indian corn.
Now, not too big.
Turn the white pumpkin,
to show its topknot.
Its personality shows,
in its honorary spot.
Through Halloween
and in to November,
this Fall decoration,
I'll always remember.
For the contest; "What No Orange Pumpkin"
sponsored by Carol Brown