A slant of cinnamon sun,
A shiver of frost on the lawn,
The kind of day that calls
For an apple-red jacket and
A brisk, windblown
Country walk,
Or a New England college
Football game,
Woodsmoke in the air,
Brown leaves crumbling
Underfoot, icy, still nights
Flecked with stars--
Shards of light
pricking the dark--
And cider steaming on the stove
Ladled into handmade mugs,
Warming hands and home
And air heavy with
Heady scents of autumn--
Sun-warmed wool, damp earth
And curbs lined with armies
Of dark bags full to bursting
With summer's leftovers.
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
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