Autumn. What a
beautiful word. Two syllables
that float from your mouth.
Mature. Earthy. Humble.
Autumn.
You can’t rush it; already
it moves too quickly
on its own. Perhaps this is why
memories of Autumn are so clear.
Crisp, concentrated, captured
in such little time.
Winter lasts so long, and
Spring takes a while before
it is even presentable. Summer
is always unpredictable, but
Autumn,
precious Autumn, arrives
and then leaves us enough life,
colour, and anticipation
to see us through
another year.
Autumn.
It can’t wait, but I do.

j.g.l.