When the air is crisp,
with a chilly breeze,
fall puts a spell on me.
The leaves fall in a wisp,
as an artist weaves-
a portrait of the fiery sea.
Though, it’s not February,
love seeps through the air.
For all things spooky, and scary,
as we celebrate autumn without a care.
Bats fly above ours heads, as night-
falls, casting the stars a glow.
They are the land’s spooky light,
as we enjoy our time before the snow.
Posted in response to the challenge Fall: Writing.