Sep 26, 2018
My Son’s First Autumn
Leaves move and jabber in the wind
His senses drawn to the movement and sound;
To his eyes they’ve always been green—
Now they are turning and falling to the ground.
There’s a crispness in the air, a taste,
Like his first bite of apple. It foreshadows the cold
Of December, reminding me of the frozen night
We brought him home, our soon one-year-old.
His tiny fingertips brush against new textures,
His nose turns red, his eyes widen in delight.
And so do mine. I experience it all anew,
As if Autumn is happening for the first time for me too.
