The Season of Fall

September 27, 2009
A scarf and sweater warm me up
And hot mulled cider fills my cup.
I watch as leaves fall on the ground
So silently, without a sound.
The wind blows harsh against my face
As I sit on an earthy place.
I look down the quiet street-
The smell of donuts soft and sweet.
A smiling pumpkin on the porch
Contains a little lighted torch.
It flickers in the wind each day
Until the flame is blown away.
Times of the fall from back so far
Enter my mind as I enter the car.
I sit still until we’re there
To a cider mill where chilly air
Is not so very scare or rare.
Why, in fact, it’s everywhere!
Up the stairs and to the right
Is the mill. It’s quite a sight!
The cider’s made right there and then
And you get to see it again and again.
The next week we do something I think is fun!
We go to a mill, but a very small one
It’s at my uncle and aunt’s house, you see
They have carrot plants, beet plants, and three apple trees.
We get to mill cider by holding a grip,
Cranking a lever, and taking a sip!
The beautiful, wonderful season of fall
Is the most colored and perfect of all.

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