A.W. Books & Poetry

There’s something in the air,

A cinnamon glow,

An oaken grove,

Whispering, rustling.

Can it be,

Tales of a season’s past,

A talisman found in campfire ash?

They tell of long lost rituals

fading as the Earth freezes.

Sssh…

They lull soft and smooth,

As the breeze cools,

knowing it must settle soon.

-Annalise

Fall series