Autumn winds blow fresh across my brow. Bringing promises of crisp morning jaunts through fields and hills splashed by natures paint box.
Pumpkins glowing orange among the dying vines that nourished them through the summer. The trees dance in the breeze, waving their colorful skirts and petticoats, welcoming the long winters rest that is nearly upon them.
Farmers gatherer the hay in huge rolls, gather the wheat, collect the corn, leaving barren fields for the creatures of the woods and sky to glean.
Squirrels scamper, their cheeks puffed with seeds and nuts to hide away for winter suppers , geese honking over head on their way to warmer climes , no need to endure the harsh days to come.
Soon the early snows will trace the graceful curves of the tree branches. making abstracts landscapes across the woods and I will settle in for winter and dreams of flying down the hills of my youth and of course, Santa.
