The Season of Expiration

Burnt orange, russett red, and buttery yellow swirl in a loose tornado over the damp pavement.

Chilled air sends unsuspected shivers down one spine and a shock of crisp oxygen through the nose of another.

Worn leather boots crunch over a path filled with retired leaves.

The sound of woodland creatures scrambling to prepare for the annual shift fills the air with a frenzied energy.

It's warm enough for bare arms, yet cool enough for covered legs.

A scorching drink in hand provides a wave of heat to blossom in one's chest.

The scents of cinnamon, pumpkin pie, and brown sugar permeate a home.

Ghoulish faces spread their flickering grins to October passerby.

At the yearly Fall Festival, there is a choice between caramel or candied apples.

This is how we are meant to spend our existence,

Balancing on a tightrope between uncomfortably hot and unbearably cold

While nature sheds its summer cloak to brace for the devilish temperatures to come. 

The season of expiration is a time of fading, 

Where the burnt oranges, russett reds, and buttery yellows sink from branch to ground,

And a sense of peace and belonging falls over humanity for a while.

Author's Note

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