Queen of Autumn

Queen of Autumn, how I miss your brown tresses and your cherry pies. I long for them. I long for your dusky sunsets and your red leaves. I wish to walk among your trees again, to feel the September sun upon my face. Your pumpkins and hop cones, your soldier beetles and goldenrod, I can see them and smell their scent on my fingertips. So permanently in transition you are, loosing attention at the moment things are finest. As soon as you become golden you are already turning to black and grey sunsets, to frigid cold. Yet, you return, and you will return again, and in the meantime I can sit by a fire and remember your falling leaves under my feet.