In the field the hay's is gone. The geese waddle through the stubble finding a harvest of their own. Gray clouds are spilling rain. A sign of more to come? Somewhere close by, a farmer is burning his land. The smell of smoke drifts on the breeze and lets us know the seasons are changing. The land here is yawning, preparing for its winter rest. We the inhabitants are scurrying like mice to bring in summers bounty before the autumn frost can touch it.
The evenings are growing dark and the birds are heading south. Bright summer flowers are giving way to the reds and golds of fall leaves. Orange pumpkins dot the fields. In the air is a chill, a warning of the cold darkness soon to come. Autumn is here.
Okay, so I was feeling poetic today. Here it is, my ode to fall.
1 week ago