Seasons Change

I can feel it
The subtle crisp of an early Sunday morning
A warm cup of a coffee offering vibrant streams of moisture to the air
The fallen leaves as they crunch with each step in the woods

I can taste it
The harvest of new apples plucked from their home for so many months
The last hints of pollen from the late season blossoms attempting a final chance for continuing
The salty hulls of boiled peanuts captured in a tin cup from an old iron kettle

I can hear it
The dying sounds of tree frogs as they cling to the branches of late summer trees
The endless cries of the night crickets as they sing one final song for their lovers
The autumn breezes as they take over the watch from the summer winds

I can see it
Slowly emerging colours in the tops of the hardwoods
Ghostly fogs appearing as the sun climbs over the hills
The orange moon reaching out from the bowels of space and time

Seasons Change