My Soul is Wedded to The Season

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Abstract

eet and satisfying my awake time spent in zionWhen else can you feel the crisp air of mornings then at noon an Indian summer? When else can you inhale the daylight hours like in the company of a lover?In autumn, oh, delicious autumn — my senses peak, anticipating magic flows through to my spirit, ebbs, and flows to my surroundingsTurn to a tree, ablaze with color to spot the empty nests of robins look to the sky for vee formations of birds chasing the halcyon blue of summerThen in the yard, the hustle of squirrels scurrying around for this or the other, the smell of smoke from an evening bonfi

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re that brings awareness of the season to heedIn awe of autumn — the melancholic and most beautiful of seasons arrives to offer respite, comes with whispers to all the poets to write the season into romantic works of artAnd in the kitchen, the windows are foggy; condensation from cooking and baking of apple or every-berry crumble, spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloveYes, my soul is wedded to the season drows’d from hours of contemplation delighting my senses and curling my toes here in the ephemeral nature of autumn.THANK YOU FOR READING I Wish You Miracles.</article></body>

Free verse on autumn

My soul is wedded to this season and I sit in contemplation sleep is sweet and satisfying my awake time spent in zion

When else can you feel the crisp air of mornings then at noon an Indian summer? When else can you inhale the daylight hours like in the company of a lover?

In autumn, oh, delicious autumn — my senses peak, anticipating magic flows through to my spirit, ebbs, and flows to my surroundings

Turn to a tree, ablaze with color to spot the empty nests of robins look to the sky for vee formations of birds chasing the halcyon blue of summer

Then in the yard, the hustle of squirrels scurrying around for this or the other, the smell of smoke from an evening bonfire that brings awareness of the season to heed

In awe of autumn — the melancholic and most beautiful of seasons arrives to offer respite, comes with whispers to all the poets to write the season into romantic works of art

And in the kitchen, the windows are foggy; condensation from cooking and baking of apple or every-berry crumble, spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove

Yes, my soul is wedded to the season drows’d from hours of contemplation delighting my senses and curling my toes here in the ephemeral nature of autumn.

THANK YOU FOR READING I Wish You Miracles.