Since it’s officially fall, I thought I’d write a poem about something which is fall-like. Though we aren’t really in scarf weather where I live, yet!
Fabric wisps fashionably draped are in season year round,
but a cozy knit waits for crisper air,
flames leaves fluttering to mound
in piles raked high,
ever-present pumpkin spice, hot cider, and pies.
As autumn dims to winter, the branches stretch bare
to the ice gray sky,
the warmest wools snuggle noses and tuck into coats,
and people hurry through the chill,
all wrapped up.