Best season of the seasons.

Taking in the early signs of Fall.

The signs are all around,

The last of summer is burning out.

It's the end of September,

Leaving only embers, after a three month fire dies.

Leaves, freed from their branch, dance in the skies.

My eyes, mesmerized, watching flaming colors fly.

So bright they are as they die.

The aroma of hickory smoke travels in the wind.

I'm shivering tho, it's a cold wind.

The crisp autumn air, shortens my breath, and bites my skin.

I curl up, I'm warming up, by holding up this steaming cup of tea beneath my chin.

The simple essence of its presence is pleasant,

And puts my mind at rest.

This season of the seasons is the best.

It's the best of them all.

It's my favorite time of year.

With a warm smile on my face, I greet you fall.

I'm glad your here.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed