A sound I haven’t heard
in many seasons
fills my mind with memories
and I turn to face it’s origin,
the patch of pines and oaks across the street
where I see their decades
old trunks, as my gaze
is directed higher,
to their young and supple
branches that sway,
undulating in that breeze
that carries in it a scent
brought from a distant place and time,
a gift from mother nature herself.
The gentle roar of the gust comes closer
and the trees that bring us life
no longer have their summer vibrancy,
their stunning shades of green
one leaf at a time
to golden hues like that
of a warm sunset which seems
to never end.
A crispness in the air
suddenly bites at my ears,
red ears and red nose
from this sharp wind that blows.
The howl of autumn is nearing now,
calling to me through the trees
and I plead to it not to
leave so soon again.
I watch the birds and the squirrels
welcome the season now,
embracing all the harvest it brings:
I hear the walnuts being gnawed open
for an autumn squirrel feast,
The birds enjoy the wild mulberries,
And I sip my tea.
—By Zoe Rios