There’s something sweet about the onset of summer. A radiance that fills the sky. Splashing of waves. Long warm nights. Palm trees swaying endlessly in the wind.

But I never mourn for summer once it’s gone. For me, autumn has so much more to give. The mystic grey skies and cool air swirling through a late afternoon. The turning leaves [in some parts], as bright as can be and the crispy ones that have fallen to the ground. I hop on them and feel them crunch beneath my feet.

The scented candles that hit the shelves emitting vanilla bourbon and pumpkin spice sitting atop my tabletop. The smell of freshly baked apple pie..or pumpkin..or pecan.

The feeling that the holidays draw near and the desire to wrap yourself up in their embrace. A cheery countenance settling upon your face, even laying off the car horn a little more. I turn warmer as it turns colder outside--the rain doesn’t hurt.

I welcome its sound as it beats down onto my window pane along the storm drain and into the dirt. We soon lose light to the dark starlit night. The air is crisp and fresh, I can rest now.

I happily cozy up with my tea in my cup..or coffee..or cocoa will do. And so starts the fire--I never truly tire of being warm on a crisp autumn’s eve.

So before the earth settles down and winter takes on its crown, and the streets take on new names. Before the white dust falls, and makes snowmen of us all--and the fire red leaves scatter,

without an ounce of clatter,

unveiling majestic powdered trees, and a calming peace is released into the air.

I want a moment.

I want to breathe in autumn.