If I were blind, I'd know it was fall because of the pumpkin spiced coffee. Its seasonal flavor bursts onto my tongue while hot, pumpkiny, and frothy.

Standing under the sky, I'd feel the painted leaves as they fell from their tree. I'd feel the autumn wind dancing on my skin, wild and free.

No, I wouldn't have to see to know the trees have shifted. Because clothes get snugglier, and all the limited coffees gets taste tested.

At a time when

the atmosphere

changes -

when the leaves leap

off of the trees

their colors changing

like chameleons,

and the animals

prepare

for the long months

coming -

as the day pouts

at its shortened length

while the night smirks

in blissful

satisfaction,

I smile.

My eyes twinkle

as I see

God's signature

printed

all around

me.

(Sepia sunlight oozes

through the smoke,

choked forest.

Silent in consumed anguish.)

You glow crimson at the last

(What once was green and lush,)

in a breaking of the haze.

So brief;

that final gasp of glory for

summer is done,

(eaten up with frost and fire.)

And yet you shine,

in passions of crimson and sunset,

audacious, unabashed.

(Adamant despite it all;)

I want to consume you

leaf by star-leaf

plucked with lovers care,

(imbue me with your passion!)

yet ravaged all the same

as the licking fingers of the blaze

(For I am empty,

uncomprehending your joy,

as the grey-wash snowfall

whispering in to quench the inferno.)

note: Anthocyanin is the chemical that causes leaves to change color. I struggle with titles constantly. If anyone has recommendations I would be thrilled to hear them.

Am I,

evil,

laying under,

waiting,

leaf to fall?

Am I

bad,

sitting back,

waiting,

harvest end?

Or.

Am I

enjoying fall

as it

should

be enjoyed?

what is it about

orange syrup,

conjured from sugars and artificial flavors

that brings forth imagery of white girls and iced coffee?

i myself

delight in adding it to every fall drink,

despite not falling into the category of

white girl

(and not liking iced coffee, either).

it has become

a guilty pleasure

of mine,

a measure of fall

days counted in pumpkin spice lattes

ordered from starbucks:

it's like paying for diabetes.

what is it about

orange syrup

stirred into steamed milk and espresso shots

that conjures such joy in my hollow heart?

it has become a symbol of fall,

the one time of year

in which i give myself permission

to be just a little bit

basic.

Flash of orange

Fade to red

Explosive beauty leaving decay in its wake

The final flare accompanied by a crisp breeze

The brief intoxication is wonderfully stunning

An indulgence collectively shared

Somewhere along the pumpkin vine

A leaf begins to fall

A perfect, crisp orange

The ones you like to step on

As you hear a perfect, satisfying crunch

Somewhere along the pumpkin vine

Somewhere along the pumpkin vine

a crow begins to stalk

Perhaps a nibble, maybe a bite

must not be far along

A smashed pumpkin is there, he sees

Somewhere along the pumpkin vine

Somewhere along the pumpkin vine

A little girl shrieks

"Daddy, Daddy, this one!"

She speaks

he cannot say no

so they put it in the wagon

A snip is made

somewhere along the pumpkin vine.

Somewhere along the pumpkin vine

A girl sits

A cozy sweater, A cup of tea

A moment of gentle bliss

She breaths in the cool, crisp air

Her hair is wild in the wind

she doesn't seem to care

She waits

Somewhere along the pumpkin vine.