Thursday, October 28, 2010

Why Autumn Is My Favorite Season

Crispy cornflake leaves crunching under my feet as I step,
Yes, I believe I will walk a little further
Just to
Crunch!
That bright golden leaf
Over there!
The breeze caresses my hair,
Warm still,
With just the hint of cold,
It envelopes me in
Bonfires, roasted marshmallows,
Memories of

Jumping!

Into giant piles of red, orange, yellow, brown
Leaves.
I stop and smell the air, linger just a little longer,
The mountains behind me are crimson and gold,
The sunset is bolder, accented by the trees.
The wind is stronger now, deliciously colder, too.
I pull my jacket a little tighter,
And wonder if I ought to have grabbed a scarf.
The wind paints my cheeks with a blush
To match the

Falling,

Spiraling,

Dancing,

Pirouetting

Leaves.

I pull my jacket tighter still,
And wander just a little further, glad to be alive.
Piles of plump pumpkins
Peek at me from their perches,
I pause to smile back at their toothless grins.
The wind blows again,
I throw back my head and laugh,
As it tickles me,
Chills me,
Rustles my hair.
My nose lightly numbed now,
I go inside,
And snuggle up under a soft, flannel blanket,
Sipping a hot pumpkin pie latte,
As I read that novel
That summer was just too busy for.
And outside my window,
The whistling wind

Whips about,

Whisking the last leaves

To and

Fro,
To and

Fro,

I take another sip,
And revel in the splendor

That is Autumn.

1 comment:

Stephanie said...

Blogger refuses to concede to my formatting demands, so you can't get the full intended affect. The text is supposed to match the appearance of fall.

"Passage—immediate passage! the blood burns in my veins! Away, O soul! hoist instantly the anchor!
Cut the hawsers—haul out—shake out every sail!
Have we not stood here like trees in the ground long enough?
Have we not grovell’d here long enough, eating and drinking like mere brutes?
Have we not darken’d and dazed ourselves with books long enough?

Sail forth! steer for the deep waters only!
Reckless, O soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me;
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go, And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.

O my brave soul!
O farther, farther sail!
O daring joy, but safe! Are they not all the seas of God?
O farther, farther, farther sail!"

~Walt Whitman, "Passage to India"