The Smell of Fall
I was a melancholy child
They used to burn leaves on the streets
Of Richmond, Indiana. The streets
Rustled under our feet.
Swishing through the night
In scare-garbs, my sister and I
In town visiting our cousins,
We swished door to door bumming
Sweets, big bags full
To take back to the farm on the hill
And dip into for the next two, three days.
But the smell of fall and school
Always pressed me to crave
Summer, this rustling fall
Whispering in my face
And though I barely caught the words,
Their meaning was cold and clear
And their promise kept when morning
Broke and the ground was covered.
Fall had turned on me
And made walking down the hill slippery.
