FriendBurst Blog

I remember those days
when I called autumn my own,
days of summer fun
slowly winding down
as closing my eyes,
I swung so high
from the branches
of my dad’s favorite tree
the one that he planted
in the back yard so long ago.
my feet almost touching
the clouds and the sky,
ripened apples falling
to the ground
as each cloud passed by.

And I look forward again
to the shorter days of fall,
the crisp air
and clear blue skies,
perfect for heading
to the orchards,
apple-picking time once more
as we pile into the car,
the bunch of us,
with hats of straw
and bushel baskets
soon to be filled to the brim,
overflowing with golden
and red and green,
sweet fragrances of fall
that remind me once again
of those tasty treats
Mom would always bake
with the apples we picked
on the days between
the brutal heat of summer
and first winter snowflakes,
fragrant memories still flowing
upon an end-of-summer breeze.