Beauty of the End

Never before have I seen such wonder, 

Such beauty, 

As the death of summer. 

When autumn creeps in its crisping wind 

Over my valley, 

The world is a painter’s canvas. 

So many hues of ruby, gold, and even bronze. 

The soft aroma of the rotting leaves, 

Leaves a perfume that welcomes the end of 

Hot days and teases the arrival of winter. 

It is the petrichor of the earth that wafts  

an earthy aroma.  

Piles of withered leaves 

Enhance the beginning of 

The last harvest. 

The sweet smell of rotting apples, 

Of ripe pumpkins, 

And the teasing of candies 

Swirl around the feeling of fall. 

Fattened fowl clucking away 

While jewels of vegetables all 

Prepare for the ultimate feast. 

But before the gorging of Thanksgiving, 

There is the welcoming day 

Of our past families. 

Candies, 

Sweet pastries, 

Marigolds and moon flowers. 

And the feasts. 

Oh, such wondrous feasts 

Of venison fresh from the wood, 

Turkey, quail, goose. 

Roots and herbs 

Fermented fruits  

Mulled and spiced ciders. 

This... 

This is the essence  

Of Autumn. 

Of fall. 

This marks the End... 

And welcomes the time of Rest.