This time of year
without a doubt,
my favorite time of year.

Fondest memories
of me in my worn-out jeans,
running through the falling leaves
that soul-soothing crunch 
sang to my ears
as my little feet would carry me
as far as my eyes could see.

I distinctly remember
Vince Guaraldi,
playing over my dad’s record player,
his finest piano work
really just the icing
on the pumpkin pie
that was this wonderful season.

It was the time of year
where the sun would rise a little earlier
and sank a little sooner;
a time where the neighborhood boys
all pretended to be their favorite football stars
through hail mary
after hail mary
in their own Turkey Bowl,
becoming Hall of Famers
in their own minds.

The brilliant display
of green to golds
of emerald to ruby
made this time of year
truly magical.
And the falling of the leaves
told of a deeper truth.
There is much beauty in change.
Of stripping away old bark
shedding off the old leaves
and starting anew,
starting bare.

Do not mourn the passing
of things old
for too long
for they herald
a time of great beauty
of incredible change
of indelible growth
of a cycle as old
as Time itself.

I guess it’s true what they say;

The more things change,
the more they stay the same.

This year
without a doubt,
my favorite time of year.


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