#452868 added September 5, 2006 at 3:18pm Restrictions: None
Autumn
Before the arctic chimes of winter,
beauty as precious as the last breath.
A sweeping scent of cinnamon
hot cider in a gentle farmer’s hands
toasting the elastic clouds.
Pumpkins at a log-cabin door, a turkey,
kitchens and tables set to a horn of plenty,
witches, scarecrows, and ghosts,
designs of autumn sketched
in an ominous way.
When lightning dances a jig
along the edges of clouds,
dark corners hoard haunting fiction,
collecting parched-leaf tales,
as we rake our drying thoughts
into piles of warnings.
Through the hills, rust colors awaken
in yellow, orange, and red,
while little-girl-cheeks echo
the earthy glow.
A maze of dried shrubs
drenched clean in the sudden rain.
With nervous speed and warnings of tears,
our success or failure,
readying for the disappearing act,
re-organizes the dance.
Through excess, we celebrate
our place at this time,
where destiny deems we should be
in the autumn of our years.
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