ghosts and leaves: a poem

Photo by Reba Spike on Unsplash

crunch, crunch, crunch
go the leaves;
whirl, whirl, whirl
goes the wind;
creak, creak, creak
goes the bark of old trees,

dark trees with bark cracked
and worn, their scent layered
in the air like pumpkin spice.

look, look, look
go the ghosts;
shh, shh, shh
go the graveyards;
breathe, breathe, breathe
goes the air,

crisp like the crunch
of an apple,
the crunch of leaves underfoot,
the snap of a twig that leaves
the air smelling of sap.

oh, how i love
the autumn.