The wind blows in crisp, confident, clean
Carrying with it burning leaves, twigs, and the crunch of fall.
An apple cinnamon candle elates my senses
reminding me of running into huge piles of leaves.
They close in around me
We go get hot cider with red hots in it to warm us up.
The candies tingle my taste buds.
Through the corn maize we lose ourselves.
Stalks higher than the heavens loom as they sway in the breeze.
I pull my jacket higher up on the nape of my neck and feel my nose begin to run.
I don't mind it replacing the hot summer sun.
Under the stars we curl up in the hay bales.
The bumps along the trail send us deeper into our cushiony straw.
At the campfire we warm our reddened fingers.
My marshmallow burns off the stick.
Erasing my agression into the knife as it plunges into the head of the pumpkin.
Scraping out the seeds, I grow weary anticipating the face.
I pop out the eyes, and the juicy mouth begins to form a frown
mirroring my little brother's sharp grimace.
An ice pack goes onto his little head as he overcalculated the jump across the ditch to the pee tree.
I'm so glad its fall.
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