Autumn

Autumn is falling leaves, and apples, and sadness

It smells like cider on the stove. bales of hay, and melancholy

The memories are bitter and sweet and nostalgic

In Autumn is the remembering of what has been celebrated

and the hope of what is ahead

It is the acknowledgment of loss

and what will be again

Autumns is wind burned cheeks, cozy scarves, and tear soaked pillows

it is beauty in the dying

soaking in all the last little bits of life

to store up through the winter

Autumn is crisp clear mornings, and soggy boots, and hopefulness

Cherishing a morsel at a time

until the bounty of spring appears again