the scent of woodsmoke
on
the breeze,

until a gust blows

dropping vibrant leaves

swirling round until

crunching beneath my feet

on the ground

colors glow forth,

amidst the smell of damp

from a light rain,

just hours ago

pumpkins smiling

at the peak of harvest

the corn comes golden

scarecrows stand watch

as black birds pick the

choicest morsels

from the crops

cider of apples
pressed the old way,

by water wheel

donuts, freshly fried

scent the air

as children play

near the river

snug in sweaters,

soft not scratchy

never wanting to go...