Ghosts and goblins, pumpkin heads, witches riding brooms–
Telling scary stories in dimly lighted rooms–
Sitting ‘round the campfire, hot-dog-roasting fumes–
These are autumn moments . . .
vividly in bloom.
Leaves raked high from autumn trees, fiery golds and reds–
Jumping deeply in the pile, covering our heads–
Darker mornings, shorter days, quicker “off-to-beds”–
These precious autumn moments
gently ‘round us tread.
Apple cider, hot or cold; homemade pumpkin pie–
Autumn scents through window screens; harvest time is nigh–
Fodder shocks and hayrides; scarecrows standing high–
These are autumn moments–
never let them die.