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Red Leaves


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It smells like Winter.
Mid-October, the chills start to come. The days quickly turn to nights as we slowly grab for those cozy sweatshirts.
That morning, when you wake up, not to your alarm,
but to the beckoning coldness of the air clenching your blankets, that's the morning when you know it's almost here.
That sharp Fall sun for the first time in a long time only giving light, not warmth.
You can't hide in Fall sun.
There's no smoke and mirrors behind it. No humidity to make you sweat away the day. Just you, in your true light,
sharp.
I open my backdoor to feel how cold it actually is before going to bed tonight. Before I can feel for the air, my fingers are stung by the chilled glass that separate me from that October night.
I let go for a moment,
now ready for what will come.
I rest my palm on the glass and push the door open.
Cold night air doesn't seep like humidity. It enters, penetrates, and immediately fills an empty space until all you can feel is its sharp sting of pleasure.
My senses are cut short by the overwhelming smell of Winter,
although Fall has just begun.
Chilling trees and logs is the only way I can describe it.
Cold tree bark.
Pumpkins come to mind,
boots and jeans,
and football games,
gloves, sweatshirts, red leaves,
and holding your warm hand.
They say Spring is when love is in the air. But I swear,
just as these leaves blush red and fall to the ground,
so do we in love.



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