it’s in seasons of fleetingness that we have to remind ourselves to slow down,
sometimes it physically hurts me to look at the sky and know that it will never look quite
the same again.
that this moment i’m existing in now is already beginning to slip away, and be replaced
by another.
autumn is such a brief time of year, but she makes her presence known, bursting with
color as she sings, all good things must go some time.
and as i hear her melodies, i am intoxicated by her breezes and her red gold tresses
trying so desperately to breathe in as much of the fall air as I can, and quickly gather
up the pumpkins spilled like giant orange beads across the fields.
My Pocketful of Poetry 