Cool, crisp air whispers and blows.
Showing the season change has come again.
Tiny signs display truth of time passed.
Only a short time before more changes arrive.
Stone of gray and berries of vermilion
tell a tender story for those who listen.
Drift a while on the autumn air
that surrounds and transpires.
Hope is found, all around
from mountaintops to tiny pebbles.
I feel the beauty that is the season,
I let it tickle and taunt me.
Stay here, just for a little while longer.