Under a hot, humid sky
I fell asleep on your sandy beaches.
My feet wet
from your warm tumbling tides.
The sun blisteringly hot
turns my pale skin a torturous lobster red
and the breeze,
a fragrant blend of salt and crustaceans.
I slept a bit
or so I thought, cradled in the summer’s warmth,
only to wake
under the sapphire blue, autumn sky.
Now there’s a chill
blowing in the whimsical wind
that smells of dew
and the rotting corpses of nature’s canvas.
shed their aging leaves, now brick red, old gold, and rusty brown.
The leaves dance sensually
as they gently waft to their graves on the ground.
We sip hot drinks
of pumpkin spice or chocolate topped with fluffy cream
Autumn, unlike summer,
is a dream in flannel and fleece.
I pick apples
thinking of all the delectable treats they make
and head home
to hearth and stove to start my kitchen witching.
In my kitchen
I make pies, brews, and stews by the score.
Summer is fun,
but autumn’s nesting has begun.
Soon winter comes
to cocoon us in its icy fantasy.
frigidly stunning there will be no more sunning.
and linger longer with your enchanting thrills.
Let’s light a bonfire
in celebration of a magickal life ere winter’s burial.