Every Year

Every Year

Autumn
Is when
The air rushes cool over exposed skin;
Breeze bringing pleasant shivers
And the rustle of crimson leaves
Gilded gold and burned orange.
Pumpkins grin that sly smile, and children
Scream with excitement at the
Mischievous buzz in the air.
Autumn
Is when
My mug is filled with steaming mulled cider,
The room lit at dusk by thirty candles,
And sandalwood incense is lulling me to sleep
As I curl under a quilt with a book.
The sweet sounds of the violin
And piano curl my toes in delight
As they meld with the sounds of an open window.
Autumn
Is here.