Whispers pass, like the hum of bees
As the orange leaves fall.
The feel of pine breeze
And the smell of pumpkins.
Sunlight gleams across the street
Into a harvest festival stall.
The loud pattering of feet
Of children dressed as bumpkins.
Candy hits the baskets
Loud parent's call.
Monsters go back to caskets
And pies are made from the pumpkins.
©koranna
K