In Tennessee it starts with rain.
Autumn sprinkles in gently -
But winter arrives in deluge.
The scent of petrichor-
But crisper - colder.
The acrid bite against my skin -
Something more than the morning chill.
Then there’s a shiver that is bone-deep.
It says the harvest is complete.
In Autumn our low bearing mountains-
And winding valley climbing roads
sparkle like flames from vibrant leaves.
They stay shrouded a glimmer dewy veil-
Mist formed by cold autumn morning air.
Air that meets summer heated asphalt and pesticide.
No one knows better than these wary bones-
That the strong biting wind brings the cold.
As I sit and listen to the wind coming from the north -
I know the morrow brings winters frost upon my porch.
About the Creator
Hope Martin
Find my fantasy book "Memoirs of the In-Between" on Amazon in paperback, eBook, and hardback, in the Apple Store, or on the Campfire Reading app.
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I am a mother, a homesteader, and an abuse survivor.
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Comments (2)
Oh, I really became invested in this kind of winter. I'm in the Rockies, which is totally different. You have some truly beautiful lines in this. Too many to list here, but I will quote this section: "In Autumn our low bearing mountains- And winding valley climbing roads sparkle like flames from vibrant leaves." Simple language, yet the image conjured here and the musicality of the diction are just *chef's kiss.* I love "low-bearing." Wouldn't have thought to use it to describe mountains!
I love this. I've never been to Tennessee but now, it's on my bucket list.