Brittle leaves grace the curb of the street.
Their short journey has come to an end.
Green turns orange with the crispness of the season.
Trees turn bare as the months march on.
The squirrel collects his stores.
Food lies dormant underground.
He plans for the future frost.
And prepares himself for barren forests.
The birds flit by anxiously.
They lie in wait for their time.
Like the leaves, they will make a journey.
The south’s warmth beckons them.
Children begin to bundle up.
Halloween is loudly anticipated.
Piles of fallen leaves are flattened by a jump.
Fall has arrived in all its glory.