The Vestments of Fall

Sweaters in the morning, less in afternoon,

Frosty start , blazing middle, chilly old end

The leaves once so fertile, now begin to fall,

Dead souls roam the map, visiting nostalgia,

Cornucopia spills, lives mix, a pie batter, amongst the waxy apples

Animals scrounge for food and a burrow,

For they know that winter comes,

We, those that heat from the luminescent glow of plastic,

We do not feel as they feel,

The Earth breathes, and some sense,

The leaves drift from their once so high homes, and some watch

Take delight in the color, the depth,

Smooth the succulent squash, and taste its yellow