I wanted to do at least one poem for the season!
There was a ritual
when I was a child;
summer would slink
away with the first hint
of cold and we would
use old jelly jars,
gathering bits of autumn.
Crimson leaves, apples
crisped on frosty mornings
and warm woolly things for
chilly nights. Each of us
savoring the season,
stretching it out in front
of us and wishing it would
never end.
