With puffy jackets and stomping feet,

We walk with autumn’s beat.

Fluffy tumbleweeds turn and toss,

The whipping wind blows them across.

The blue cornflowers look up at the sun,

They’ll all be gone when the season is done.

The taste of glassy crabapples - sour and buttery,

Lingers on my tongue as they plop into my tummy!

With noses slightly red, the path leads us home,

Where I cuddle by the fire and write this poem.

A reminder of our time spent in the crisp autumn air,

As we noticed all the little things Fall has to share.

- V, 13