Red Wine Makes Me Ramble

The nights grow colder and darkness, suddenly, arrives an hour earlier (a trick of the industrial world mind you). The vibrant leaves that surround us seem grow more sparse every morning that I arise, a result of the autumn winds. Some cling longer than others, as if to flaunt their bright and enduring foliage. I suck up their sunset colored vision with my eyes. I breathe in as deeply as possible, for there is something about the October air. It is unique, clean and crisp. I want to drink it.

Winter whispers through the breezes and I can feel it in the draft under the doorjam. Licking my bare ankles. Autumn seems too fleeting and winter so endless. But here it comes, closer every minute. November will come tomorrow and bring with it a leafless, frosty age. Soon it will be time for wool socks, stuffing and reflection. Time for snuggles and tea. Time to look inward.

But first, there are leaves to be crunched and kicked and piled and tossed. Quick, before they turn back into the earth.