An ode to autumn

I see you, your colours on the change from golden yellow, the brightest red, to oranges so deep I can almost feel them.

I hear you in the slow squeak of branches, the crunch under feet trapped in boots and socks, socks as thick as warm buttered toast.

I feel you brushing past my face, a cold, sharp slap across my cheeks.  It leaves them rosy and warm to the touch.

I taste you in the early morning as I breath in you sweep into my chest and steal away my breath, you taste of cold, a chill, a thrill.

I smell you most of all, you are in the fresh clean air, the thrashing rain falling, the sweet apple scent on the gentle afternoon breeze and in the fire that burns away in the hearth.

You are the best time of the year, a sensory overload, a delight, you bring the promise of festivities to come and memories of a golden summer sun.