Autumn

A penny acorn hat rests atop moist, black soil.

A little fairy lost her cap

in the storm.

Hickory leaves stacked in columns

litter the grass,

Ginger and honey dot the bases of trees

like sweet sheets of sandpaper bark

resting with backs 

Against a trunk.

The breeze:

She is at university this time of year,

taking a stroll through the park

with her tawny scarf pulled over

her nose

and her hands in her coat

pockets.

The leaves flutter as she passes,

shedded wings

of warrior sprites.

She smells of cinnamon and

Cold, smooth stones on the bed

of a brook;

the steam rising from warm pumpkin pie,

Crisp, fresh air,

like half-frosted ice touching

the tongue,

the sharp cracks in a table water cracker,

the crinkle of the leaves.

Breathe.

by HALEY CREIGHTON