The Weight of Autumn
Like the cord of wood stacked behind the house
And my breath hanging in the quickly chilling air
As I bring it inside, one log at a time,
Dust falling from my gloves.
Like the big raindrops, fat at the bottom,
Running down the window,
And the dusty waterproof coat and boots
From the back of the closet.
Like the once-golden leaves
Which have formed a carpet beneath my feet
As I walk amongst the trees
Happily wrapping my scarf one more time.
Like the scent of apples and winter squash
Blending with cinnamon and cardamom,
And the warm beef stew simmering on the stove,
Waiting patiently while the bread bakes in the oven below.
How I savor the weight of Autumn,
With its layers of blankets and sweaters,
Pale skies, and air that bears a crispness