A collage of reds, browns, and yellows,
A sight that comes but once a year.
Mothers inside baking.
Smell of warm cinnamon filling the air.
Outside, ballets of leaves twirl in harmony with the autumn wind.
Children’s jackets buttoned, shoes tied.
Laughter, shouting, and happiness arise as mountains of leaves become small volcano like eruptions; cushioning their fall.
Mothers watching from the window smiling and laughing wishing they too were young again.
Warmth from the oven takes the chill from their withered bones.
Hours go by, no end in sight.
Leaf after leaf glide down to earth until all trees are bare.
Darkness comes as a blanket to put the day to rest.
Children inside sip hot chocolate, dozing before a cozy fire.
A cycle destine to repeat again.