His Name is Autumn

Alaina Kimble

High School Sophomore

November/December 2023

The tree tips, kissed with lips of gold.

Crimson bathes the forest’s canopy like blood,

Leaves the color of blush drifting to the earth,

And the sound of wind in the sky like his sigh.

His name is Autumn.

The smell of summer coming to an end

On cool huffs and warm breath.

The sun like his warm embrace,

His hands like the soft harvest soil,

And dew on the cold, crisp grass like tears on lashes.

His name is Autumn.

When Autumn lays his head to rest,

He shakes the leaves out of his hair,

And settles on the newly harvested fields,

He'll sleep ‘till tomorrow.

And when this happens, Lady Winter's cold embrace grips the soul of the world.