October Trees

Ah, the scent of rot of the leaves and the chilling of the air... 

A sweet perfume that emulates times of getting cozy; 

With a book? 

A pet? 

A thick blanket? 

A partner... 

But the beauty of the dying leaves, a kaleidoscope 

Of red, gold and mulled browns. 

Then there are the sweet scents of the arrival of fall, 

Of the receding of harvest and summer. 

The crisp scent of encroaching cold, 

The tangy aroma of leaf rot, 

The sweetness of fruits overripe 

And becoming liquor of the earth. 

Apples separating from the branches of their kin, 

Falling, 

Bruising. 

Ripening into wine for the creatures of the harvest. 

Hornets sampling the sweet drink, 

Flitting about dizzy, crashing like 

Kamikaze jets into the golden grass. 

Fat deer crushing the rotting fruit, 

Savoring the solid treat, 

Plumping up for hte winter, 

Stags and does ready for the Rut. 

The beauty of what is called Fall... 

It all starts with the drop of one leaf, 

With the maples going from lively green 

To a crushing red. 

Like blood on the river stones. 

Lets celebrate Samhain together, 

So mote it be. 

By the October trees.