I have mixed feelings about autumn. In some ways, I love it. The weather is beautiful, and I love fall colors and foods, but knowing it's only going to get colder and darker make me love it less. Still, there is something to be said about autumn that helps me be mindful of what I have and enjoy it now.
Autumn breezes softly come
With scents of cider and cinnamon.
They swell and swirl
And build to a torrent
Of red, purple, and gold.
The crispness eases the summer heat,
And tells the ground—
Prepare for sleep.
One last harvest;
Apples, corn, and pumpkin reaped
Before the snow sets in.
One last romp
To run and feast.
So dance in the colors.
Autumn comes softly
But leaves us with ice.
Here is a pinnable image of the poem:
