Mother Autumn

She wakes,

Tends to her children, pinching their cheeks and tickling their lungs

Hungry, she sets the bushes ablaze - the ashes drift towards the green carpet beneath

She is reminded of her own fleeting existence

Soft tears fall

But they pass, replaced by gentle sighs

Her face clears

She takes a moment to listen to the muffled thuds of footballs passing between feet, the clicking of zippers against brisk-moving bags, the ruffling of feathers tucked away in roofs

She breathes - taking in the warm waft of spices from the café and the dizzying scent of wet fresh paint from the window trimmings of the corner bookstore

Deep twilight begins to set in: time to bathe

The slick cobblestone in the golden light of the street lamps

And kiss us on the nose goodnight