Late November and the air is violet and chilled-

the savage summer restlessness has finally stilled.

Funny how the world turns most beautiful, just as it begins to die-

As if the colors finally fought their way out of their green sheaths- as if they’ve won…

As if the leaves vowed to turn the sidewalk magic, as they fall down to dry-

As if the sky surrendered to the brutal, sanguine sunsets of the blazing cool sun…

And, I can walk for hours, alone, me and my coffee, hair wild with wind,

through the night streets, the sleepy- warm houses huddled ¬†knees to chin…

and golden white lamp posts, twinkling against the sky like stars,

smell of rain, and laundry detergent, and leather boots, and heated cars,

and I love you, Autumn, you with all your young defiance- gypsy herald to the snow,

I just wish you would stay longer,  but like love and chocolate, seasons so fast seem to go.

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