In the blink of an eye, the days get shorter
the eve's turn cooler, my spine trembles.
The gun-shot sound of acorns falling,
A harbinger of the change of season.
As Autumn shades infuse the leaves,
Bittersweet vines turn orange, and red.
The milkweed leaves die-back and fall,
revealing silk-laden seed pods. Swept up,
by the wind settling upon the soil.
The cycle of life starts anew, perfectly.
Acrid scents, in the calm between the breezes,
the clock ticks down to the Autumnal Equinox.
So to, as it passes, days dwindle approaching
the winter solstice.