Fall.

Fall is finally upon us.
The air has that crispness to it, a slight bite of chill in the breeze.
The deer are playing in the roads.
[I have almost hit 3 of them with my car.
One was a buck with enormous antlers.]
The leaves are the most vibrant hues of gold, ochre, and brick red,
signifying that they are soon to plummet from the branches to the earth below.
The scent of burning leaves wafts through the air.
This scent is one of my favorite scents.
The city is damp with the fall rains,
but lacking the humidity of Summer.
Therefore, it is pleasurable and I do not mind it at all.
Long sleeves, hot tea, and my porch swing shall dominate for the next week.
Before my hibernation begins, I want to soak up the brevity of this season.
[Pittsburgh has almost no Fall.
We segue straight from Summer to Winter with possibly a week of fall inbetween.]
Contemplation.
The death of the matters of the Summer and Spring.
As the leaves tumble down, the negativity and pain of this year past follows suit,
joining them in the pile at the tree's base.
For the first time, I do believe Winter will not feel quite so cold.
This Winter will signify starting anew.
As the snows fall and blanket the ground, they will whiten my canvas,
blank, and ready for new works to be created upon it.
I am a work in progress.

But for now, the Fall is lovely.
J'adore l'automne.