autumn.

I am ready for crisp days and cold nights.
For crackling fires and musty books.
For food full of earth and cream and spice.
For beer that smells of leaves shuffled underfoot.
For leaves shuffled underfoot.
For high-pitched calls driven by instinct and desire.
For the crash and clash of sparring brothers.
For the yellows oranges reds that are so intense as to feel supernatural.
For blue skies a color that is not to be believed.
For the soothing sound of rain.
For the distant smell of snow.
For cozy rainbow wool slippers.
For the chunky sweater that still smells slightly of sheep.
For pumpkins and candy and little kids pretending to be terrifying.
For football.
For the reminder that, even in death, life is beautiful.
For the epiphany that, especially in death, life can be beautiful.
For mushrooms replacing grass in all their alienness.
For the chattering quake of golden aspen leaves sharing their mesmerizing secrets.
For the lengthing of shadows.
For September and October.
For autumn.
For the fall.
For today.

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