As the tree leaves fall we race
Quickly out of the blocks trying to capture our last feelings of sunny warmth before the floating leaf drops.
Fighting hard to make it
Just a few days more in shorts because pants are for winter and who the hell
Wants that.
Trudging through shifting piles
Pretending not to know the frigid months autumn comes to predict
Every year.
Looking down
At the beds of once-leaves restraining our necks from looking up at the trees
So bare and sullen.
Looking forward too.
Watching the uniform trees carefully color to a stark new shade
So that it awes year after year.
Feeling entitled
To the smells of chimneys, the sound of rakes, and the expectation that EVERY meal
Could use more pumpkin pie.
The roar of school buses
calls us back to the daily routine we all secretly miss…
At least sometimes
And cherishing
The thick woolen blanket, which is a great excuse to get closer to her
But never quite close enough.