Autumn Shakes her Head

Sitting here under the old oak tree

on this red and black plaid wool

I feel particularly fallish.

Fingers poking out the tips of knitted

gloves, I turn pages in my book.

Summer has packed her bags and

taken hiatus to wherever she runs

from fall and winter.

I sip hot tea from a thermos and

ogle passersby, wrapped in warm

sweaters or scarves wrapped around

fashionable necks.

I savor the feel of the chill wind blowing

across my cheeks, not too cold,

but a definite bite in the air.

Leaves fall from overhead and layer on

my blanket. shades of red, orange, and yellow.

Soon the city workers will be raking leaves with

large tractors and the smell of smoke will

permeate the air as Autumn shakes her head

in the wind and leaves continue to fall.

(C)Victoria Ramsey

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