leaf piles beckon
every age–
nature knows
what the soul needs;
what we forgot
golden sun washes faces
as crisp winds
leave kisses
on cheeks
and apples
harvest light bathes
living room floorboards
like butter
while cinnamon
curls the air
candles dance
and firesides begin
conversations
of crackling coziness
days too quickly dim
as fall envelops us in her
vibrant sweater of warmth,
and home,
and
each other.
_Liza McNamara, Sr. Editor
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