Lanterns bloom on crooked porches,
Orange against the creeping dusk.
The air is stitched with smoke and cider,
A sweetness laced with rust.
Branches bend like secret keepers,
Shadows pool in candle flame.
Footsteps echo down leaf littered paths,
Whispering October’s name.
Windows creak with gentle stories,
Laughter tumbling through the glass.
Outside fog drapes low and silent,
As through the world wears a mask.
Crisp the night and sharp the starlight,
Fields lie hushed in amber dreams.
The earth is clothed in fading fire,
And nothing is quite as it seems.
Beneath the hush, a warmth is glowing,
a hearth, a fire, a waiting door.
The night is wide, the wind is knowing,
As autumn gathers us once more.
Technical Writing and Publishing
