“I Met the Fall”

November is my favorite month and not just because of Thanksgiving, pumpkin flavored everything, National Novel-Writing Month, the fact that eleven is my favorite number, or even my birthday. I love November because, living in Arizona and California, this is the month when Autumn finally arrives and, this morning, she arrived and met me with inspiration. I am aware that the seasons are probably the most common of poetic muses, but allow me to contribute my own little scribble to the myriad of autumn-inspired poetry already swirling about in the literary world like wind-swept leaves.

“I Met the Fall”

I met the Fall this morning

Though she was rather late.

Or perhaps she was just waiting

To show her fading face-

The face of golds and browns so rich,

Not like false blush of Spring;

Her colors more mature

And wisened head beseem.

And now she’s come,

But quietly,

Unlike capricious sister.

Not with song and dance and blooms,

But in arrival, leaves.

She did not knock upon my door

Or call to my window,

But when I stepped outside this morn,

Her bronze smile did show

And in her arms of cool clean air-

Crisp as the apple’s flesh-

She did enfold and welcome me

And did my soul refresh.

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