Here's to Autumn

Autumn, you’re the quiet guest who settles in the corner, pulling the warmth of summer close to your chest, until it’s just a memory, like the way a song lingers in the back of our minds, softly echoing.

You arrive unannounced, with your golden breath, turning the world into a mosaic of fire and gold, a slow dance of leaves on sidewalks where we walk, the kind of beauty that makes us pause, if only for a moment.

I see you in the way the shadows stretch, long and lean, touching the edges of our days with a gentle melancholy, as if the sky itself is holding its breath, waiting for the final curtain call of the season’s last act.

You’re the rustle in the trees, the crunch underfoot, the reminder that change is the only thing that stays, a quiet revolution happening without a sound, leaving us with empty branches and a promise of renewal.

Autumn, you are the book we read with an open heart, turning pages made of gold and copper, each line a whisper of what was, and what will be, a testament to the passing of time, written in falling leaves.

So here’s to you, the fleeting artist, the sculptor of dusk, who paints the world in shades of reflection and rest, leaving us to wonder in the spaces between, where we find ourselves again in the soft decay of beauty.