Leaves. Spiraling down, fluttering up, swooping away.
Leaves.
Red ones, orange ones, yellow ones, brown ones ó but mostly down ones.
Leaves.
Big one, little ones, thin ones, fat ones, curled ones, flat ones.
Leaves.
Blow them, mow them, rake them, toss them, throw them. Pack them, stack them, bag them, burn them (but composting is much better!).
Leaves.
Round mounds. Leaping kids. Barking dogs. Itchy skin. What fun.
Leaves.
Crisp mornings. Cool nights. Smoke-plumed chimneys. Frosty roofs.
Leaves.
Football cheers. Homecoming queens. Roaring bonfires. Hot chocolate. Halloween treats. Thanksgiving sales. Christmas songs.
Already?
Leaves.
Oak. Poplar. Ginkgo. Maple. Silverbell. Buckeye. Lacebark elm.
Leaves.
Redbud. Dogwood. Sourwood. Sweet gum. Ash.
Leaves.
Hickory. Birch. Crabapple. Beech.
Leaves.
Blow them (again), mow them (again), rake them (again), toss them (again), throw them (again).
Leaves.
Autumn walks. Sun on your back. Wind in the pines. Hawks on the wing. Blue sky. Golden light. Memories preserved in amber.
Leaves.
Dead petunias. Pink camellias. Last rose. First fire.
Leaves.
Homemade soup. Venison stew. Honey-glazed ham. Hot cider. Cranberry bread. Pumpkin pie.
Leaves.
Sweep the porch. Sweep the patio. Sweep the deck. Clean the gutters. Have a beer. Take a nap.
Repeat as needed.
Leaves.
Change the furnace filter. Cover the grill. Store the mower. Caulk the windows. Check the antifreeze.
Take down the hummingbird feeder.
Bring in the plants. Break out the sweaters.
Leaves.
Corduroy pants. Flannel shirts. Leather jackets. Down vests. Longjohns.
Woolen gloves. Woolen socks. Woolen scarves. Woolen shawls.
Darn those moths.
Leaves.
Geese vectoring south. Deer lifting a nose to the north. Squirrels going nuts. Crows hunched over barren fields. Woolly worm hiking up a fence post. Snake draped on a warm rock. Trout hovering in a cold stream.
Leaves.
Lazy drives on mountain roads. Gingham hills. Calico valleys. Early sunsets. Harvest moon. Journey’s end.
So soon?
Where did the summer go?
Leaves.
Bare limbs. Tree bones fracturing the sky. Nothing much left to fall except the temperature.
Freeze warning for tonight. Rain on the radar. Chance of snow in the mountains.
Do I hear sleet?
Leaves. Hours. Days. Seasons.
Drifting down. Skittering past. Swirling away.
Gone.
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Chris Verner is editorial page editor of the Salisbury Post. Contact him at cverner @salisburypost.com or 704-797-4262.