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| This was my favorite tree that sat on the corner of my duplex when I lived in Des Moines, Iowa. This picture does not do it justice. |
Swirling, twirling, ever changing as it falls
Picked up, jumped in, tossed about, having a ball
Colors blend, orange, red, yellow and green, too
Mornings echo sounds of leaves and early dew
The smell of pumpkin and burning leaves
Windows left open, cardigan sleeves
Taste of apple cider on the lips
A cool breeze brushes the fingertips
Pigskin games on the television and outside
Jack-o-Lanterns, All Hallows Eve, a hayride
A trail that leads to a hidden paradise
Loaves of bread baked with love and a dash of Allspice
Beauty that a heart cannot contain
Autumn, in its glory, does not remain.
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| A bed of leaves. I did not own a fancy camera when I lived in the midwest. A pity. |
Your words just got me in the mood for Autumn. Love the picture and love the poem. The verses are so descriptive I could smell autumn! Nice!
Thank you so much, Sonya! I always love your encouragement! Smelling and tasting/experiencing autumn was the goal! š
This makes me homesick even more than I already am today. The first house Danny & I lived in as newlyweds was on a street lined with mature trees. In the fall, the leaves would "rain" down on our street. Sometimes I would stand at our front window and watch the yellow leaves swirl to the ground in an almost blizzard like fashion. It was an enchanted sight.
I feel you on all levels, Angela! I'm finally going to work on my Farmers' Market post! š