I see the signs: Leaves beginning to curl, Turn brown and litter the Ground, The red, orange, and yellow ones Just waiting in the wings for Their debut, Acorns scattered underfoot, Squirrel food, Honey crisp apples ready to pick. It's almost time to search for the Most vibrant foilage. Jack and I pursued the color all The way to New England one Year, discovering we were early, And finding the best display When we arrived back home. I've learned that I find the Loveliest color splashes when I stumble upon them unexpectedly, When I'm not even searching, And then I yearn for more, Never satisfied. Fall is a time of haunting joy, Hugging to myself The radiant hues, The cool nights, The pumpkins, orange polka Dots in the patches, The smell of bon fires And apple pie, A time of trying to capture the Sights, the smells before The short season is gone, Chased away by frost and Frigid air leaving the tree Skeletons standing stark and Stoic against the winter sky. |